


Changes

by Dazzlious



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9493334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzlious/pseuds/Dazzlious
Summary: Set after the Epilogue, married life isn't going quite as well for some of the main characters as Jo would have had us believe . . . .





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from JK Rowling’s fantastic books or films, I’m just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so. 
> 
> A/N: Thank you to my beta, Mamacita, as always, and thank you to you for reading. I really appreciate it. Dx

‘Would you care to dance?’ a polite voice asked smoothly.

Hermione turned to find the tall figure of Draco Malfoy standing beside her. She gave a small frown.

‘You do know who I am, don’t you?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly, wondering if he was having some sort of joke with her.

Draco nodded his head once and held out his hand. Shrugging, Hermione took it and he led her out onto the dance floor. A moment later his other arm was around her waist and they were waltzing. He was an accomplished dancer, Hermione soon realised, much better than Ron, although of course he had probably learnt as a child, part of the privileged upbringing her husband had never enjoyed.

‘You’ve changed considerably,’ he told Hermione, leaning in close to whisper in her ear as they danced. ‘Hardly the bushy-haired, buck-toothed little Mudblood I remember from school.’  His voice was still pleasant, although Hermione couldn’t help stiffening slightly at the criticism. ‘I didn’t mean that nastily,’ he hastily assured her as they worked their way around the room, ‘just the opposite in fact. You really are gorgeous, Hermione. Weasley’s a very lucky man.’ He pulled her a little closer to him for a moment before easing off again.

Hermione looked at Draco with suspicion. ‘What do you want, Malfoy?’ she asked. ‘You’ve never been pleasant to me before, so why start now?’

Draco smiled. ‘Time to let bygones be bygones? After all, it has been twenty years since we left school, Hermione and the world has changed considerably in that time. Surely we can at least be civilised and call each other by our first names, can’t we?’

Hermione still had no idea why he was doing this but she wasn’t going to be the one to appear petty, so she smiled as she replied pleasantly, ‘Of course, Draco.’

She looked around, wondering where Ron and Harry had got to. She was sure Ron wouldn’t be happy about her dancing with Draco. Whilst he didn’t want to dance with her himself, he had never really got over his dislike of the man who was now leading her around the dance floor, although they had all tried to forgive and forget in the years since Harry had defeated Voldemort.

‘So, how many children do you have?’ Draco asked interestedly, already knowing the answer but trying to make conversation.

‘Two,’ Hermione replied, ‘Rose and Hugo . . . and you?’

‘Ah, just the one for us,’ he replied, smiling again. ‘Young Scorpius.’

‘The new prince of Slytherin,’ Hermione said, sounding amused.

Draco laughed. ‘I think young Albus has taken that title, hasn’t he? How did Potter feel about his son being put in Slytherin?’ He looked at her keenly, interested in her reaction.

‘He wasn’t bothered,’ Hermione said honestly. ‘The poor boy had been terrified about being Sorted in there but Harry told him it wasn’t a problem, told him he should be proud to be in Slytherin. After all, that’s the House Professor Snape was in.’

‘Hmmm, perhaps we’ve all changed,’ Draco said musingly.

‘You don’t look very different,’ Hermione said honestly. ‘In fact, you look just like your father. Actually, almost exactly as I remember from the first time I saw him . . . except for the hair, of course. He would have been about the same age as you are now.’

‘Do I scare you?’ Draco whispered in her ear.

Hermione shook her head in annoyance. ‘No, and neither did your father, whatever you both liked to think.’

Draco seemed to sense they were on the verge of unwelcome conversation and quickly changed the subject.

‘So where do you and your family live?’ he asked.

‘We have a place in London,’ Hermione replied. ‘With Ron and I both working at the Ministry it makes sense for us to live close by.’

Draco nodded. ‘We live in Malfoy Manor.’ Hermione looked surprised. ‘My parents decided to move abroad some years ago and they gave the manor to me,’ he explained as he smiled ruefully. ‘I’m afraid Astoria and I live a somewhat similar lifestyle to my parents, hence her lack of attendance this afternoon. She prefers to visit spas and spend time with her girlfriends rather than attend Hogwarts functions.’

‘We always enjoy the functions,’ Hermione admitted. ‘It gives us a chance to catch up with all our friends who we wouldn’t see very often otherwise. I have to admit I haven’t noticed you here before, though.’

‘No . . . as I said, Astoria wasn’t keen, and being honest, I wasn’t sure how welcome I would be . . . under the circumstances. But Scorpius kept asking me to come, so I felt I really ought to make the effort for him.’

‘Well, there are plenty of Slytherins here,’ Hermione said. ‘Pansy Parkinson, or whatever she’s called these days, is around somewhere. You and she used to be—’

Draco grimaced. ‘Oh gods, don’t let _her_ see me. The woman makes my life a misery. I thought it would stop when she got married, but it didn’t. Even my marriage didn’t stop her. She’s like a stalker, and of course she’s a good friend of Astoria’s so she’s always dropping by for one reason or another.’ He shuddered.

Hermione felt a moment of sympathy for Draco. She had seen Pansy earlier in the evening and she did look a bit of a harridan. She really could imagine the woman as some sort of bunny boiler. By now the dance had finished and Hermione began to pull away.

‘I should really go and find Ron,’ she said, trying not to be rude but feeling uncomfortable with Draco now the dance had ended.

‘What a shame,’ Draco replied smoothly, holding onto Hermione for just a moment longer. ‘I was rather enjoying dancing with the prettiest woman at Hogwarts.’

Hermione laughed and blushed. ‘Compliments again, Draco? You need to be careful.’

‘But it’s true,’ he whispered. ‘You were then and you certainly are now.’

Hermione pulled away. ‘My husband will be waiting for me,’ she said, feeling a little discombobulated at the unexpected compliments.

‘I do hope we can dance again soon, Hermione,’ Draco said, smiling. He was still holding her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it gently before releasing her, his icy grey eyes following her as Hermione walked away looking for Ron.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was getting the feeling she was being watched. Wherever she went, whoever she talked to, and whatever she did, there was this feeling. But whenever she looked round there was no one there.

‘Are you all right, ‘Mione?’ Ron asked.

‘Yes, I’m fine, just checking out who to talk to next,’ Hermione replied, trying to keep her voice light. She didn’t want to upset Ron with her stupid worrying over nothing. ‘I think I might go for a walk, get some fresh air. Do you want to come?’ she asked her husband as she took his arm.

Ron grimaced. ‘A walk? What for?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘Because it would be nice. It’s a lovely afternoon out there. We could go down and see the lake before it gets dark. Have a lovely, cosy, romantic walk on our own.’

Ron looked around and spotted Harry returning with drinks, and shook his head. ‘I’m stopping here to talk to Harry. You’re welcome to go, though.’

‘Oh . . . okay.’ Hermione looked and sounded disappointed as she dropped Ron’s arm, watching as he walked over to Harry. The two of them chatted avidly, probably about boring Quidditch, almost immediately forgetting all about her.  She walked slowly and a little despondently towards the door of the castle.

‘Going somewhere?’ a lush voice asked. ‘You’re not leaving already, I hope?’

Hermione looked up to see Draco looking intently at her. She sighed. ‘No, I’m just going to go for a walk. I could do with some fresh air.’

‘No husband? He seems rather preoccupied.’

‘He’s with Harry,’ Hermione stated, as if that explained everything. ‘Anyway, I don’t mind being on my own.’ She started to walk towards the door once more.

‘May I accompany you, Hermione?’ Draco asked seriously.

Hermione looked appraisingly at the blond-haired man for a moment, then nodded. ‘If you like, although I’m not sure we have anything to talk about, Draco.’

‘Oh, I’m sure we will be able to find something,’ Draco replied with a smile, walking along beside her.

They headed out of the castle and down towards the lake, Hermione turning en route to look back at the school in the oncoming twilight.

‘Do you miss the place?’ Draco asked, watching Hermione’s expression as she looked at the castle interestedly.

‘I do sometimes. I miss how much easier life was,’ Hermione said, sounding a little wistful.

Draco looked at her in astonishment. ‘Easier? Gods, Hermione, I would love to know how you saw things. How can you say things were easier after everything we lived through?’

Hermione looked steadily at him for a moment. ‘Oh, I know the times were hard,’ she admitted, ‘but at least relationships were easier.’ She stopped for a moment and frowned. ‘Well, generally. I’m not sure I like being an adult.’

Draco looked at her shrewdly. ‘All not well between you and Weasley, then?’

‘Yes . . . it’s just . . . just that sometimes things aren’t as I had imagined they would be. It can be hard.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Draco said. ‘I always swore to myself that I wouldn’t follow after my parents, yet I find myself doing exactly the same things they did. It’s actually quite depressing in some ways.’

‘I just wonder what I’m doing wrong sometimes,’ Hermione said quietly.

‘What makes you think it’s you?’ Draco asked, frowning.

‘Perhaps my expectations were too high,’ she continued ruefully.

Draco laughed loudly. ‘What, in marrying Weasley? Far too high, I’d say.’

Hermione bristled. ‘And you would be in a position to judge that, would you? I don’t see your marriage working out too well. Where _is_ your wife this afternoon?’ She stalked off down the hill.

‘Anyway, I meant my expectations of how life would be once I was married. I guess I was far too romantic in my ideals. Real life isn’t all hearts and flowers,’ she said when Draco caught up with her a moment later.

‘It can be,’ he replied, taking her hand. ‘You just need the right person.’

‘That might be true,’ Hermione said with a sigh. ‘But I got Ron and I have to make the best of it.’ She pulled her hand from Draco’s grasp.

‘It’s a shame we never got together,’ Draco said honestly. ‘I’m sure I could have given you all those things you want.’

Hermione snorted with laughter. ‘Oh yes, I remember how taken you were with me while we were at school, Draco. All those times you called me a Mudblood and wished I would die.’ Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

Draco sighed, then said unhappily, ‘My bloody father and his Pure-blood ideals. Not only did they ruin his life but they ruined mine, too.’ They sat down on a bench by the lake and watched the giant squid as it swam and played in the water. ‘I often wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t been in Slytherin, or hadn’t been my father’s son. Not having to worry about all that Pure-blood crap.’

‘You wouldn’t have been you,’ Hermione said matter-of-factly. ‘Those things make you the person you are, whether you like them or not.’

‘But maybe you and I . . . .’

Hermione shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, Draco. I was in love with Ron from about the age of thirteen. There was never anyone else for me.’ She looked wistful.

‘But if I were different, then maybe I would have stood a chance.’

‘But then you wouldn’t have been you,’ Hermione repeated, looking at him.

‘It would be worth it,’ Draco said quietly. ‘The first time I realised I was in love with you was when you hit me back in the third year. You know what they say, love and hate are two sides of the same coin; and your hatred that day was strong, far stronger than it had ever been. By Merlin, you were magnificent. I had to walk away before I did something stupid like grab you and kiss you.’

Hermione looked at Draco in surprise, not sure she wanted him to continue. Draco took her hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes.

‘I’m sure my father was aware of my feelings for you, and of course he didn’t approve. But strangely he never did anything to stop it, either.’

‘Apart from trying to kill me at the Department of Mysteries,’ Hermione retorted. ‘I think you could safely consider that doing something.’

‘But that was only because you got in his way,’ Draco said. ‘I think he actually rather admired you for what you did that day. Me, I just fell even deeper in love. And back further, at the Yule Ball, I wanted to dance with you so badly. I don’t think I had ever seen anyone looking as lovely as you did that evening. I spent ages trying to work out a way I could get you to dance with me, but I couldn’t think of one and I don’t think Krum would have given you up anyway. He was being very possessive, and understandably so. But then again, I was stuck with Pansy and she was clinging like a limpet, and yet again there was that stupid blood issue that put you off limits, so I ended up just watching you jealously all night.’ He laughed ruefully. ‘So the Weasel and I had something in common there, at least!’

‘Draco, I don’t think talking about —’

‘Do you know the thing I regret the most?’ His voice was urgent now.

Hermione shook her head. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know.

‘That when you were being held at Malfoy Manor, I didn’t rescue you and keep you safe.’ He looked unhappy. ‘I’m so sorry, Hermione. I should have got you away from Aunt Bella, should have rescued you and your friends from the cellar, but I was too scared of what the Dark Lord would do to my parents. They were already in so much trouble.’ He looked embarrassed.

‘Of course you were worried about your parents, and let’s face it, Draco, it was hardly going to be a tough choice for you, was it?’ Hermione said soothingly.

‘Harder than you think,’ Draco said honestly. ‘I wanted you so much and at that time it would have been so easy to . . . to take advantage of you. But then that would have exposed you to Aunt Bella even more. She would probably have killed you for bewitching me or something. The whole thing was a nightmare. I was so glad when you escaped. And then I saw you fighting in the battle. I wanted to take you away then, but my parents needed me. You were truly fantastic then, Hermione.’

‘How is it that my recollections don’t match yours?’ Hermione asked sceptically. ‘I would never have believed that you had any good feelings for me at all from the way you always treated me. In fact, I would have said you detested me, maybe even more than your father did.’

‘But I did have strong feelings for you,’ Draco insisted, ‘and they haven’t gone.’

He moved his face towards Hermione, holding tight to her hands as he pressed his lips against hers, gently at first, pulling her into his arms as her lips parted softly beneath his. As the kiss finished Hermione pulled away, looking horrified at what they had just done. She had to admit Draco was still very handsome and he kissed very well, but he had never been her type . . . and she was in love with her husband.

‘Hermione—’ he began quietly, reaching out for her once more.

‘No, Draco . . . please don’t,’ she pleaded, and stood up, moving just out of reach.

‘You’re not happy with him,’ Draco said bluntly. ‘I could make you happy. If you’d give me a chance.’

‘I’m not interested,’ Hermione said just a little too quickly. Her heart was beating faster from the wonderful kiss she had just participated in and she was fighting the urge to return to him and do it again. ‘We’re both married.’

‘Exactly, we’re both married and both unhappy,’ Draco said. He had stood, too, but didn’t move towards Hermione, realising she needed some space. He noticed she didn’t disagree that she was unhappy.

‘But it’s wrong,’ she whispered, ‘completely wrong.’

At this Draco did move towards her, wrapping his arms around Hermione before she had a chance to get away. It was dark now and he knew they couldn’t be seen from the castle.

‘It’s wrong to want to be happy?’ he asked in a hoarse whisper as his lips found hers again, brushing against them before attacking harder. He almost moaned with pleasure at the taste and feel of her, so soft and so warm.

‘I have to go,’ Hermione said in some distress once the kiss was over, and she pulled away from him and ran back up the hill towards the castle.

Draco followed her back to the school, walking slowly, thinking about Hermione and the things he had just admitted to her. Everything he had said was true. He _had_ been infatuated with her for years, ending only when he no longer saw her after leaving school after the battle of Hogwarts. They had gone their separate ways, she to marry that bloody Weasley and Draco, after going with his parents, had ended up with Astoria after a few years of playing the field, never quite finding what he was looking for.

Astoria was the perfect hostess, like his mother, and so, although he had always sworn to himself he wouldn’t, he had ended up in the same sort of marriage as his parents’: unfulfilling and cold, with a son and heir provided to his wife out of duty rather than love — although unlike his father, Draco completely adored his son and was very proud of his achievements.

He still had no idea what the hell Hermione saw in Weasley. It seemed to Draco that he had pretty much ignored her romantically throughout their entire time at school, not even realising how much he hurt her; yet, regardless, she was completely smitten by him. And intellectually he wasn’t her equal, either. No matter which way Draco looked at it, he would never understand that attraction.

And then he had seen Hermione again, on the platform at King’s Cross when he and Astoria had dropped off Scorpius for his first year at Hogwarts. Hermione and the Weasel were there, too, with their children, a pretty girl of about Scorpius’ age who obviously favoured her mother and a younger boy, more like his father. Nineteen years since the battle that had almost ended everything and there she was, even more beautiful than he remembered. Her wild hair had been tamed somewhat and she had gained some weight and was curvaceous enough to reawaken all those thoughts and desires he had thought long dead even more lustfully than before.

He watched the couple as they put their daughter onto the train and talked happily with Potter and his wife, who was Weasley’s sister and other assorted Weasley family members who seemed to have taken over the platform. The Potters, too, had a son to deposit on the Hogwarts Express who looked just like his father and Draco had wondered glumly whether Potter’s son and Scorpius would be enemies just as he and Potter had been. Scorpius, of course, was the spitting image of him and a true Malfoy male, but he hoped his son had a slightly better attitude than he’d had. After all, he had never instilled the importance of blood into his son the way his father had done with him.

Draco waited and watched as the families left the station, then walked close behind them, close enough to get a good look at Hermione and note the changes the years had brought. It was no good, she really did look wonderful and he was still very much enamoured of her.

It turned out that Potter’s son Albus had, surprisingly, been Sorted into Slytherin along with Draco’s own son, and Albus and Scorpius had soon become firm friends, creating between them the sort of chaos Hogwarts hadn’t seen since the Weasley twins had left the school. Until now, Draco had purposely kept away from the castle and its social side because seeing Hermione tore him apart, reminding him of what he was lacking in his life. But Scorpius had begged him to become more involved in the social functions the Headmistress enjoyed organising to get the Houses mixing more effectively, so he had made the decision to come to the Halloween event, although he hadn’t been able to get Astoria to give up her weekend with her girlfriends to come with him.

As he watched Hermione with her husband over the course of the afternoon it soon became clear to him that she and Weasley weren’t blissfully happy. In fact, it seemed Weasley still treated her pretty much as he had at school. Draco had taken the opportunity to move in and dance with her, but he hadn’t expected to be as honest with her as he had been. Hermione definitely still did something to him, and he was sure that despite her protestations to the contrary she felt some attraction for him, too.

He walked back into the Great Hall and spotted his son and Albus skulking in a corner, deep in conversation. They were clearly planning something. He walked over to them.

‘And what do you two think you are doing?’ His voice was stern.

There was a flurry of hands and robes as his son looked up at him guiltily.

‘Nothing,’ Scorpius said, trying to rearrange his face into a mask of innocence. Albus affected the same look and Draco almost laughed out loud.

‘Well, just make sure it stays that way,’ he replied. ‘It would be a shame if the party was disrupted by, oh, I don’t know, say . . . fireworks.’

The boys both looked guilty again and fidgeted under his gaze.

‘Otherwise I shall have to tell the Headmistress that I know the culprits, having seen them stuffing their pockets with the things.’

‘We’re not doing anything,’ Scorpius insisted, feigning offence at the idea that he and Albus could be considered troublemakers.

‘Glad to hear it,’ Draco replied with amusement.

He let the boys go, certain that neither of them would dare to set off the fireworks now. The Great Hall was safe — for tonight, at least.

‘What were they up to this time?’ Harry asked, grinning. He had seen Draco talking to the boys and realised they had obviously been planning trouble, so he had come to have a word with the man.

‘Fireworks, from the looks of things,’ Draco replied, smiling in response. ‘I think I’ve scared them enough, though.’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘That will be Uncle George again,’ he said laughingly. ‘Every time the kids go anywhere near that blasted shop they come back with bulging pockets.’

Draco stayed talking to Harry and eventually to Ron, and the discussion turned inevitably to Quidditch. Scorpius and Albus had both been picked to play for the Slytherin team, an interesting proposition as Harry’s oldest son James was already playing as Seeker for the Gryffindor team. From this year on his brother would be against him in the same position. Scorpius was a Beater and a good one at that, and the men all discussed how the coming season was likely to be an interesting one.

Finally, as the afternoon drew to a close, Hermione reappeared with Ginny, wrapping her arm around Ron’s waist as they talked. By the time they left Draco had agreed to meet with the group of friends for the first game of the season — the big one, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor.

Draco went home in a far better mood than he had been in for ages. He had danced with and kissed Hermione and he was going to see her again in only a few weeks. Things were definitely improving in his life.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was fed up with listening to Ron, Ginny and the other assorted Weasleys who had attended the Quidditch match, trying to get Rosie riled up. The girl had almost as little interest in the game as her mother. Hermione had only ever really watched the matches at school because Harry was on the team, and then later Ron and Ginny. Draco had been on the Slytherin team at the same time but she had rarely even noticed him except as an annoyance; after all, he had been her most hated enemy for her entire time at school.

Ron had been annoying her a lot recently, and although she didn’t want to admit it Hermione knew it had something to do with what had happened between her and Draco at the Halloween party. She had spent years pretending everything was fine with her marriage, but inside she knew that really wasn’t the case. Years had been spent putting up with things she would never, as a teenager, have believed she would allow to happen in her life, and now Ron had gone back to treating her like he had at school, seeming to rarely even notice her as anything other than a friend. To have suddenly had attention from Draco, regardless of who he was, had reawakened all her old desires and she had to admit Ron just wasn’t fulfilling any of them.

‘I’m going to go and stand with Harry,’ she told her husband.

Ron looked at her angrily. ‘But you’re a Gryffindor, ‘Mione. You should be supporting us, not Slytherin.’

‘Albus is playing for Slytherin and it’s his first game. I think James has got quite enough supporters this side,’ Hermione pointed out fairly.

She looked around at all the redheads lining the stand around them. Harry and Ginny had sensibly decided to take it in turns to support Albus and Harry had taken the Gryffindor game as it meant Ginny could be with her family for a while. Also, Harry was the only one who was willing to talk to Draco for any extended period of time, and with it being Scorpius’ first game, too, it was nice for him to have a bit of support. Ignoring Ron’s scowl of annoyance, Hermione left the Gryffindor stand, taking her place instead in the Slytherin one.

‘I thought I’d come and give Albus a bit of support,’ she said, kissing Harry on the cheek. He gave her a hug. ‘And Scorpius, too, of course,’ she added quickly to Draco.

‘You’re welcome,’ Draco replied with a dashing smile, and moved so she could stand between him and Harry.

The game was a frantic one and both new players acquitted themselves well. Albus was especially happy when he managed to catch the Snitch ahead of his brother and win the game for Slytherin. Hermione very much enjoyed the game, probably helped by not being anywhere near Ron although she almost jumped when Draco placed his hand on her back halfway through the game, moving it down cheekily to squeeze her bottom. She tapped his leg to try to get him to stop before Harry realised what was happening, but all he did was smile and stroke her back even more, causing small shivers to run up her spine since she knew she could do nothing to stop him without drawing attention to what he was doing.

When the game finished, both Albus and Scorpius came over to talk to their fathers.

‘Well played, Albus,’ Hermione said, beaming at him. ‘That was a lovely catch.’ 

‘Thanks, Aunt ‘Mione,’ he said happily. ‘And thanks for supporting me rather than James.’

‘You did very well, too,’ she told Scorpius as he hovered in front of them.

‘I really enjoyed it. I can’t wait to play again,’ he said excitedly, looking around.  ‘Excuse me, I need to go and speak to Rosie,’ he said, and the two boys disappeared over to the other side of the pitch to see Hermione’s daughter.

‘Scorpius has good taste, I see,’ Draco said quietly as he stood at her shoulder. ‘Perhaps we’ll finally get a decent Malfoy wife.’

Hermione laughed. ‘I think it’s a bit early to be thinking about that, Draco. They are only just thirteen. They’ve got a few more years to go yet before they get serious . . . at least I hope so. Anyway, Granddad Weasley wouldn’t be very happy with Rosie marrying a Pure-blood. That’s what Ron’s always telling her, anyway.’

Draco smiled. ‘Well, I don’t think Grandfather Malfoy would be too happy about a Half-blood marriage,’ he said. ‘So they are both going to be unhappy, and can both get stuffed!’ 

He, Hermione and Harry all laughed loudly before heading off to join the rest of the Weasley clan to enjoy a celebration.


	2. Chapter 2

‘I’m going to Diagon Alley this afternoon. Do you want anything?’ Hermione asked Ron. She had joined him and Harry in their office for lunch.

‘Why are you going there?’ Ron asked without much interest.

Hermione shrugged. ‘I just fancied an afternoon shopping. Why, do you want to come with me?’

Ron looked as if he would rather slit his own wrists than spend the afternoon trawling the shops with Hermione. She didn’t miss the look and tried not to feel too disappointed.

‘No, I can’t. We’ve got loads to do,’ he told her. ‘In fact, I might have to work late tonight.’

‘Oh, right. What are you working on?’ Hermione asked.

Ron ignored her, apparently now buried deep in his newspaper. She turned to look at Harry, who quickly followed suit, although she didn’t miss his look of embarrassment. 

‘Fine. Well, I’ll see you later, then,’ Hermione said, trying not to sound upset. She stood and leaned over the desk, kissing Ron on the cheek. ‘Don’t work too hard, love.’

With a final look at Harry she made her way out of the office and went back to her own to pack away her things. She could feel the tears forming and was determined to stop them. By the time she had cleared everything away she was feeling slightly calmer. Refusing to think unhappy and disconcerting thoughts any longer, she set off into the bustling streets of London, crowded with Muggles doing their Christmas shopping. It wasn’t long before she arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, the pub that housed the entrance to Diagon Alley. She stopped for a pumpkin juice and a chat with Hannah Longbottom, an old school friend and landlady of the pub, before heading out into the back yard and tapping on the second brick from the left above the dustbin to reveal the entrance to the wizarding street.

Stepping through the gateway, she admired the winding street with its array of shops and stalls before heading off down one side of the road. Although she had said she was shopping, she really meant window shopping. Even though she and Ron both had good jobs and were fairly well paid they weren’t wealthy, and with two children to clothe and feed money was quite tight, especially with Christmas coming up. She bought a few small items that were either needed or would make inexpensive Christmas gifts, stopping here and there to peer into shop windows.

Currently she was looking in the window of a rather fine lingerie shop, imagining what it would be like to own such beautiful underwear. Hers were very definitely more functional than sexy these days.

‘Personally, I’ve always fantasised about you wearing Slytherin colours,’ a lush voice said quietly in her ear. ‘Preferably laying on my bed.’

She turned and saw Draco Malfoy smirking at her.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

‘The same as you, I imagine,’ Draco answered with a shrug. ‘Thinking about you in all that wonderful underwear.’ Hermione automatically slapped his arm. ‘No, seriously, I had some business at Gringotts and I thought I’d do a little shopping while I was here. I just spotted you as I was walking up the road. And you?’

‘I’m having an afternoon off. Doing a bit of shopping,’ Hermione said. She indicated the few bags she was carrying.

‘So are you going to get some?’ Draco asked, indicating the lingerie in the window. ‘I’d be more than happy to help you choose.’ He gave her an ostentatious wink.

Hermione shook her head. ‘No, I’ve no need for new underwear.’ She turned away from the shop.

‘Who said anything about needing?’ Draco asked. ‘You should buy because you want it. Be passionate, Hermione.’

‘But I don’t want it, either,’ Hermione protested. She wasn’t sure she sounded that convincing. If she was honest she would love some of the wonderful lingerie, but it was well out of her price range.

‘Hmmm. Well, I think you should try it on anyway,’ Draco said lecherously.

Hermione gave a laugh and shook her head. ‘You’re just a pervert, Malfoy.’

He grinned and confided, ‘That’s probably true, but I really do want to see you in your underwear . . . well, actually without your underwear would be even better.’

Hermione shook her head again. ‘I think we need to leave here,’ she said. ‘This shop is giving you ideas, bad ideas. Do you fancy a cup of tea?’

She led Draco away from the shop and into a café, where they ordered a pot of tea.

‘You haven’t done much shopping, have you?’ Draco said, looking at the small pile of bags at the side of her chair.

‘I don’t really have that much to buy. I was just looking really,’ Hermione said. She wasn’t telling Draco that she had no money.

‘Are you as badly off as the rest of the Weasleys?’ Draco asked bluntly. He looked at her intently. Hermione said nothing but flushed with embarrassment at the question. ‘Sorry,’ Draco said, sounding contrite. He held up his hands placatingly. ‘It’s none of my business and it was rude of me to ask.’

‘We’re not badly off,’ Hermione said, suddenly feeling the need to justify herself. ‘It’s just that with Christmas coming up . . . .’ She let the sentence drop.

‘Ah yes, Christmas,’ Draco said with a smile. ‘I believe we’ll be having a party. Scorpius has been trying to convince me to allow his friends over. Of course that means Albus, Rosie and James, so I might just as well invite you all round, make a great big party of it.’ He took a sip of his tea. ‘And I’ll have a special Christmas present for you!’ He winked at her salaciously.

‘Stop it,’ Hermione replied tartly and she drained the last of her tea.

‘Stop what?’ Draco asked, his face a mask of innocence.

‘You know what,’ Hermione muttered. She reached for her bags.

‘Where else do you want to go?’ Draco asked.

Hermione looked surprised. ‘You don’t have to come with me,’ she said.

‘No, I know I don’t, but I want to,’ Draco replied. ‘I don’t have anything better to do this afternoon. I might as well carry your bags for you.’

‘I’m just wandering really,’ Hermione admitted. ‘Just seeing if anything catches my eye.’

‘Like sexy underwear?’ Draco asked.

‘Forget about the underwear,’ Hermione replied exasperatedly.

‘Spoilsport,’ Draco retorted, although he smiled as he said it. ‘So can I come with you?’

Hermione looked at him appraisingly for a couple of seconds before nodding her head in agreement, then gave the bags she had picked up to Draco to carry. The two of them spent the next couple of hours slowly wandering Diagon Alley, talking and joking as they window-shopped, both thoroughly enjoying each other’s company.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Hermione arrived home from the shopping trip she was surprised to find a large box waiting for her. It was white with a large black velvet ribbon beautifully tied around it. She took the box through to the bedroom along with her other bags and set it on the bed while she hid the Christmas gifts she had bought. Once everything had been put away she turned back to the box.

There was no label on it to give a clue as to sender or vendor, but it was obviously expensive. The box was very thick and of good quality, as was the heavy ribbon. Almost holding her breath, she untied the bow and opened the box to reveal layers of crisp white tissue paper. Peeling that back, she found herself staring at two sets of underwear, one in the green and silver of Slytherin, the other in the red and gold of Gryffindor.

She pulled out the sets, looking with astonishment at the beautiful garments. She knew they had to be from Draco. The material was soft — silk, she guessed — and the colours shimmered as she held them to the light. They were so delicate and extremely beautiful and there was no way she could keep them. If Ron found them, how on earth would she explain why she had them? He knew she would never spend so much money on underwear, and she certainly wouldn’t have bought underwear in Slytherin colours.

She definitely wasn’t going to keep them, but the urge to try them on was too much. For once in her life she would wear something expensive, even if only for a couple of minutes. She quickly removed her clothes and put on the exquisite underwear, wondering for a moment how Draco had known what size she was. She was sure Ron wouldn’t have a clue, even after all these years together. They fitted perfectly and she had to admit they did make her feel very sexy. A few minutes later the items were packed away in the box again and had been reduced and hidden at the back of her wardrobe until she could find time to return them to the shop.

 

. . .

 

It was late when Ron had finally arrived home. Hugo had been in bed for hours and the dinner Hermione had made for her husband lay forgotten in the oven. Hermione had fallen asleep on the sofa reading a book and was awakened by the sound of a rather drunk Ron trying not to make a noise as he entered the house.

‘Where have you been?’ she asked unhappily. It was obvious he hadn’t been at work all this time.

‘Stopped for a little drink after work,’ Ron said, slurring.

‘It’s almost one o’clock in the morning,’ Hermione said looking at the clock. ‘You finish work at five.’

‘I had to work late,’ Ron said, the alcohol making him somewhat belligerent. ‘I told you that. And I felt like a drink when I’d finished. Is that a problem?’

‘I think you should go to bed and sleep it off,’ Hermione told him coldly.

‘I need to eat.’

‘Well, your dinner’s in the oven. It will need reheating. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.’

Hermione lay in bed listening to Ron downstairs in the kitchen. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep until he came to bed, until he was safe beside her as he had been for so many years. She didn’t want to think about where he had been tonight. She had a feeling that if she analysed too hard she wouldn’t like the answer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was the last day of term and Ron and Hermione, along with their friends and relatives, were on Platform Nine and Three-quarters with the other parents awaiting the arrival of the Hogwarts Express. Looking around, Hermione spotted Draco and Astoria and waved to them before turning back to her conversation with Ginny and Fleur. A few minutes later Fleur moved away and Draco made his way over to them, smiling widely as he greeted the women.

‘Do we think our boys will make the trip unscathed?’ he asked Ginny seriously. ‘I think I shall need to be having a quiet word with Scorpius over the holidays.’ He gave a deep chuckle.

‘Yes, Harry and I will be talking to Albus, too,’ Ginny said. ‘And George — he’s really got to stop supplying those two with his jokes, especially the untested stuff. I thought I was going to die of shame when the Headmistress wrote to us about the last incident.’

Draco laughed. ‘I was just glad no one else was injured,’ he said seriously. ‘I told Scorpius it served him right for taking the ruddy things in the first place.’

Albus and Scorpius had been given a box of untested Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes sweets by George and had spent a wet afternoon when they were stuck in the common room trying them out. The resulting illness had left them both in the Hospital Wing for several days.

‘Astoria and I are going to hold a party for Christmas. Of course, you will all be invited. The invitations should be with you in a few days.’ He smiled pleasantly again. ‘Ah, the train’s coming.’ He craned his neck to look over the crowds on the platform, his height an advantage, then he turned back to look at Hermione. ‘How are you, Hermione?’ he asked, looking intently at her.

‘I’m good, thank you, Draco,’ Hermione lied. ‘And you?’

‘Oh, you know.’ He shrugged.

Ginny wandered off to find Harry, leaving Hermione and Draco alone.

‘Are you wearing the underwear?’ Draco asked quietly. He smirked at her.

‘No, and I won’t be wearing it. I can’t keep it, Draco.’

‘Of course you can,’ Draco said smoothly. ‘It’s only a few small items, after all.’

‘A few small items I could never afford,’ Hermione hissed quietly, points of red rising in her cheeks. ‘What do you think Ron would say if he saw them?’

‘Well, if he had any sense he would be ecstatic at how sexy you looked,’ Draco drawled. ‘Surely you must have _some_ decent underwear already?’

‘What for?’ Hermione asked sounding confused. ‘Ron and I aren’t exactly Romeo and Juliet, you know. I don’t think he has even seen my underwear for years.’

Draco smirked again. ‘You and I could be, though . . . and I’ll happily look at your underwear any time you want me to,’ he whispered.

Hermione blushed again. ‘That is not what I meant,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m sorry, Draco. Lovely as it is, I can’t keep the underwear. I have to return it.’

Draco took her hand and looked deep into her eyes. ‘Please don’t send it back, Hermione,’ he requested quietly. ‘I’m sure you can find somewhere to keep it that Weasley won’t look.’

‘But I won’t wear it.’

‘Yes, you will,’ Draco promised with a smile. ‘I know that one day you will. So keep it . . . please?’ He dropped her hand as the train began to pull into the station with a whistle and a puff of steam. ‘I have to go. Astoria will be wondering where I am,’ he said a touch morosely. ‘I’ll see you over Christmas.’

He walked back to his wife, leaving Hermione to find Ron and her children.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Malfoys’ party took place on Christmas Day. It was a riotous affair as they had invited all the Weasleys plus a great many other friends and family, and the huge dining room was full when they all sat down for Christmas dinner — the adults at one table, the children at another. Albus and Scorpius had already been split up, with a warning not to cause any trouble, and for once it appeared they were actually listening to their parents.

Draco had been watching Hermione and Ron ever since they arrived at the manor. It was obvious their relationship hadn’t got any better over the last few months. He couldn’t help feeling glad. The last thing he wanted was for Hermione to be happy with her husband. For a moment he felt a touch of guilt at that thought, but it soon passed. He was also glad that in the end she hadn’t returned the underwear he had bought for her. In fact, he was hoping she had chosen to wear some of it today. He certainly intended to find out later, just as soon as he could get her alone.

The meal lasted for hours, as big gatherings do. By the time they finally left the table everyone was feeling stuffed from the huge quantity of good food they had consumed.

‘I think I could do with a sleep now,’ Ginny said, rubbing her tummy ruefully. ‘I should never have eaten so much, but it was all so tempting.’

Arthur and Molly were talking to Astoria, thanking her for inviting them, as Hermione went to sit with Ron.

‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ she asked her husband hopefully as she watched Albus and Scorpius talking avidly to George, obviously planning something.

‘What, now?’ Ron looked dumbfounded.

‘Yes, I thought we could walk off the lunch. Draco says the gardens are still impressive, even in the winter. They have a knot garden I would really like to see.’

‘Can’t you just sit down for a bit?’ Ron asked grumpily.

‘I thought it would be nice,’ Hermione told him. ‘I thought it would give us a bit of time alone for a change. We have so little time together these days, Ron.’

Ron sighed. ‘I don’t want to go for a walk, ‘Mione,’ he said sulkily. ‘I just want to relax after my meal. Is that too much to ask?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Hermione said quietly, sounding upset. ‘I just thought it would be nice to be alone with you for a while. Don’t worry about it. I’ll go on my own.’

She stood and waited for a second, but Ron didn’t change his mind as she had hoped he would. The guilt trip she had attempted to lay on him either went straight over his head or didn’t bother him at all, so she headed toward the hall to collect her boots and cloak.

‘Not leaving already, are you?’ asked a smooth voice that sounded disappointed. It was Draco.

‘No, I’m going for a walk. I ate far too much at lunch and need to walk it off,’ she said with a smile.

‘Ron not going with you?’ Draco asked, glancing through the open door to where Ron and Harry were now both lounging in chairs.

‘No, he wants to sleep off his meal. But I can’t just sit around doing nothing,’ Hermione replied, trying to keep her frustration with her husband in check.

‘I could show you around the house instead,’ Draco suggested. ‘It’s a bit cold for a walk outside, and walking up and down the stairs in here will definitely work off the meal.’

Hermione thought for a moment then nodded, putting her cloak back onto the peg and removing the boots.

‘How many rooms do you have?’ she asked as Draco took her arm and led her towards a grand staircase in the entrance hall.

‘Well, we have fifteen bedrooms,’ Draco said, trying to work it out. ‘I am going to show you the west wing today,’ he continued conversationally as they walked up the stairs. ‘The east wing is where Astoria lives and I wouldn’t want to go in there without telling her first.’

‘You live in separate wings?’ Hermione said, frowning a little.

Draco gave an easy grin. ‘I did tell you our marriage was as successful as my parents’ is. Astoria and I find it much easier to get on when we don’t actually have to spend any time with each other.’

‘Then again, living apart like that doesn’t actually increase the chance of a more intimate relationship growing between the two of you, does it?’ Hermione pointed out fairly. ‘You would _have_ to work things out with Astoria if the two of you were sharing a bed. Perhaps it’s living apart from each other that’s ruining your marriage.’

‘What’s your excuse, then?’ Draco bit back a little sharply. He didn’t want Hermione giving him tips on making his marriage better. ‘I assume you and Ron sleep in the same room and it’s not given you a happy relationship, has it?’

Hermione looked a little upset. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my relationship with Ron,’ she said tersely.

Draco raised his hands placatingly, forcing himself to calm down. ‘Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Forgive me, Hermione.’       

At the top of the stairs they turned left and headed down a long gallery, the walls of which were covered with portraits. Malfoy ancestors, Hermione assumed; they all had that same haughty look about them, as if there was a nasty smell just under their noses. All the men had the white-blond hair and pale features Draco sported, as did many of the women, a sure sign of the inbreeding that had so rampantly infected many of the Pure-blood lines.

‘Family,’ Draco said dismissively as they walked slowly down the corridor. ‘Of course, most of them won’t talk to me now. They think I’m some sort of blood traitor.’

One of the paintings turned its back on them purposefully as they walked past. Hermione peered at the nameplate — _Abraxas Malfoy_.

Draco shrugged. ‘That was my grandfather. He was the one who drummed all that Pure-blood rubbish into my father.’

The next painting showed his father. Lucius Malfoy looked down at them from the frame. He looked just as Hermione remembered him although he was looking a little older, especially around the eyes. The portrait stared interestedly as the couple walked past.

‘You finally got her here, then.’ Lucius’ voice was an amused drawl. ‘And you haven’t had to drug or abduct her, either. However did you manage that?’

Draco looked at the picture with annoyance.  ‘Hermione is one of many guests here today, Father. We are taking a walk around the house to work off our lunch.’

‘Are you going to show her your bedroom?’ the portrait asked knowingly. ‘I am sure you can think of a way to work off your meal in there.’ He winked lewdly.

‘There is nothing going on between Draco and me,’ Hermione told the portrait angrily.

Lucius smirked. ‘Maybe not, but he would sure as hell like there to be. He has always had a bit of a soft spot for you, Miss Granger.’

Hermione felt herself blushing.

Draco took her hand. ‘Come on, Hermione. Don’t worry about him.’ He gave a sharp look at the portrait as if willing it to shut up.

‘Don’t forget to let me know what you think of Draco’s bedroom.’ Lucius’ voice drifted to them as they walked away. ‘It used to be mine. I don’t think he has changed the décor considerably.’

‘I’m sorry about that,’ Draco said as they continued down the hall. ‘I guess my father really did know about my feelings.’ He laughed deprecatingly.

‘Perhaps we should go back. I’m sure we’ll be missed by now,’ Hermione said, feeling uncomfortable again at the sudden mention of Draco’s infatuation with her.

‘No, we won’t. Most of the adults will be asleep by now and the kids will be cooking up all sorts of mischief — with George’s help, no doubt. I saw him conspiring with Scorpius and Albus earlier.’ He grinned. ‘Anyway, my father’s right. I do want to show you my bedroom.’

‘Oh, Draco, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Hermione protested.

Draco laughed again. ‘Well, we’re almost there now.’ He indicated a door just ahead on the left. ‘Anyway, your present is in there so we need to stop off and get it.’

‘My present,’ Hermione said in surprise. ‘Why did you get me a present?’

‘I told you I had a special present for you,’ he said smugly.

‘I know, but I didn’t think—’ Hermione broke off, looking embarrassed. She stepped away from him, dropping his hand.

Draco looked at her, smiling wickedly. ‘Oh, I see. You thought when I said special present, I meant something sexual,’ he said laughingly.

Hermione didn’t reply but looked away. Draco’s hand reached out to gently grab her chin, turning her to face him.

‘Hermione, I’d be more than happy to perform any sexual favour you want,’ he told her honestly. ‘However, that isn’t the reason for getting you into my bedroom, I promise.’

He took her hand again and led her to the door, opening it to reveal a beautifully decorated room.  A moment later they were inside and he closed the door behind them. Hermione looked around in amazement. It was decorated in Slytherin colours, unsurprisingly, but it was astonishingly beautiful.

‘Wow!’ she said as she spun around, taking it all in.

‘My father was correct. It was his room for many years,’ Draco said. ‘I haven’t changed it because I always thought it perfect.’

‘It is,’ Hermione agreed quietly.

Like every other room in the house the décor screamed money, but in this private sanctuary it had been lavished beyond all imagining. The walls were watered silk in pale silver-grey, a few shades lighter than the thick and luxurious carpet that covered the floor. At the large windows were long, thick velvet curtains of forest green. The furniture that dotted the room was old and expensive, the material striped silk in forest green and silver.

One wall seemed to contain a great many mirrors and Hermione smiled to herself thinking about both Lucius and Draco’s vanity over their good looks. Closer examination revealed that the mirrors were actually wardrobes. The focus of the room was the extremely large four-poster bed, yet again decorated in forest green but this time with black, a jacquard print which took in the bed curtains, the comforter, and the mound of pillows upon it. It looked opulent and comfortable, warm and inviting.    

Draco smiled. ‘I’m glad you like it,’ he said smoothly. He moved closer, pulling Hermione into his arms, and his lips found hers in a gently questing kiss. ‘Are you wearing my underwear?’ he asked cheekily as she pulled away from him when the kiss finished.

‘No, I told you I won’t wear it. You should have let me return it.’ Hermione’s voice was a little tense.

Draco looked upset for a moment before giving a large and expressive sigh. ‘I was sure you would wear it today,’ he said, feigning misery. ‘I am sure you look wonderful in it.’

‘That would be your Christmas present, would it?’ Hermione asked, trying to lighten what was threatening to become a rather heavy moment, ‘Me, wearing your underwear.’

‘Getting to see you in your underwear would be my present,’ Draco said honestly. ‘But I can wait. You are going to wear it, and when you do I will get to see it.’ He winked at her. ‘Anyway, time for your present. Go and wait on the bed.’

He dashed across the room and opened one of the wardrobes and rummaged around inside for a few moments. Pulling out a small package, he laid it on the bed and sat down next to it. Hermione hadn’t moved. She was still standing in the middle of the room.

‘Come on. I am not going to attack you or anything,’ Draco said with a smile, patting the bed next to him. ‘At least not unless you want me to.’

Hermione shook her head, sighing, and walked towards the bed.

‘How many times do I have to tell you I am not interested?’ she said.

‘Until you stop lying,’ Draco replied. ‘I know you want me, Hermione. You’re just too scared to act on it.’

‘How big is your ego, Draco?’ Hermione asked, shaking her head in amazement again.

Draco laughed. ‘Come and sit down and open your present.’

Hermione sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. It was even more comfortable than it looked and she settled more firmly on it before looking at the parcel Draco pushed her way.

‘Happy Christmas, Hermione,’ he said quietly.

‘You shouldn’t have got me a present,’ Hermione said, frowning slightly.

‘But I wanted to,’ Draco replied, his hand reaching out to stroke hers. ‘Now open it.’

Hermione took the gift and looked at it for a moment. A long, thin package, it was exquisitely wrapped in heavy gold paper with a green and gold lamé ribbon tied in an elaborate bow. A string of green crystals had been interwoven with it.

‘It’s almost too beautiful to open,’ Hermione said softly.

Draco squeezed her hand. ‘It’s only paper and ribbon. Just open it, Hermione.’

Slowly she unravelled the ribbon, laying it and the crystals on the bed before moving to carefully open the paper, making sure not to rip it. Under the paper was a black box. She looked at it quietly for at least a minute.

‘You have to open the box, too,’ Draco told her.

Taking a deep breath, she opened it and looked at the contents. Nestled on the black velvet was a necklace; a wide, choker-like necklace of fine golden mesh with clusters of rubies.

‘Oh, Draco, you shouldn’t have,’ Hermione whispered.

She pushed the box back across the bed towards him, trying to give it back. Draco pushed it back to her.

‘I want you to have it,’ he said. ‘Please?’

‘I can’t accept that. It must have cost a fortune,’ Hermione said unhappily.

Draco gave a brief shake of his head. ‘Don’t think of the cost. It’s just a gift.’

‘But I can’t wear it, not when Ron’s around. He’ll want to know where I got it.’

Draco smiled again. ‘Then wear it when you are with me.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘I am not going to be spending time alone with you, Draco. Please stop this. We’re both married.’

Draco grabbed her hands tightly. ‘I just want to spend time with you, Hermione,’ he said quietly.

 ‘I love Ron,’ Hermione stated, but she sounded miserable.

‘And I love you,’ Draco said without a trace of humour.

He pulled Hermione into his arms. His lips found hers, crushing her soft mouth with his hard one. His tongue slid slowly between her lips, not forceful but sensual as he licked the inside of her mouth. As they kissed he pushed her beneath him on the bed so his body was pressed against hers, holding her tightly.

‘I’ll do anything you ask of me,’ he whispered before kissing her again, ‘absolutely anything. Just name it and I’ll do it for you, my love.’

‘Then let me go,’ Hermione begged. ‘Please, Draco, I can’t do this. You have to let me go.’ She wriggled frantically in his arms.

‘Merlin’s beard, Hermione, we’ve been through this. We are both unhappy in our marriages whether you want to admit it or not. Let’s not keep pretending we are not attracted to each other, because we are. I know it scares you, but you can’t deny it.’

But Hermione was getting distressed now, trying urgently to pull away from Draco even as he tried to hold her tighter. Knowing he had no choice, he released her.

‘Please, Draco, I need to go back to the party,’ Hermione said, sounding on the verge of tears. She stood up and headed for the door.

Draco sighed and followed her, leaving the necklace and the wrapping on the bed.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he told her as he followed her out of the room. ‘Please calm down, Hermione, at least before we join the others.’

Hermione slowed to wait for him, rubbing her eyes, trying to stop the tears that had formed in them.

‘Upset her again, have you, boy?’ Lucius’ portrait asked sneeringly. They had stopped just in front of his picture.

Hermione glared at the painting. ‘Why don’t you just shut up for a change?’ she told it.

‘I’m so sorry, Hermione,’ Draco said again, ignoring the portrait’s comment. He reached out to gently touch her face. ‘I never meant to hurt you, love. I promise I won’t mention it again.’ 

He leant forward giving her a chaste kiss on the lips, then checked that she had stopped crying before releasing her. In the background Lucius’ portrait made a sound of disgust as they walked back towards the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione checked her watch nervously. It was almost time. She had just over a minute to change her mind and leave, and she nearly did, the butterflies in her stomach almost making her run away — but then the minute was gone and she was still standing there.

‘Hullo, Hermione, you’re looking well,’ Draco said, his voice dark and warm. Punctual as ever, he was immaculately dressed, looking incredibly handsome with a big smile on his face.

‘Hullo, Draco. How are you?’ Hermione asked a little nervously as he leant to embrace her tightly and kiss her on the cheek.

‘Much happier now,’ he admitted as he offered her his arm. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘No,’ Hermione replied, ‘but I’m not really hungry.’ She looked at him for a second. ‘Actually, I feel a bit queasy,’ she admitted ruefully.

Draco smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m a little nervous, too,’ he told her. ‘Perhaps we’ll eat something later.’

‘Maybe this was a bad idea,’ Hermione said quietly as they walked down the road.

Draco stopped and turned to look at her, his pale grey eyes capturing her darker brown ones.

‘No, it really isn’t,’ he said. ‘Trust me on this, Hermione.’

She nodded but said nothing further. Taking her arm, Draco led her into a small alley after checking that they were unobserved. A few seconds later his arms were wrapped around her waist and with a pop they Disapparated. In a moment they were at Malfoy Manor. Hermione recognised the room immediately. It was Draco’s bedroom.

‘I thought we would bypass my father this time,’ Draco explained wryly. ‘I don’t think we need any of his less-than-helpful comments this afternoon.’

Hermione looked at him gratefully. She still remembered her last run-in with Lucius’ portrait at Christmas. Draco didn’t let her go. Instead, he pulled her tighter, his lips finding hers for a deeply passionate kiss that went on and on. When they did finally part they looked at each other without speaking for what seemed like an eternity.

Draco was the first to speak. ‘I want to take this slowly, Hermione,’ he said seriously, his hand gently stroking her cheek. ‘We don’t need to rush anything. I want you to be comfortable. I _want_ to make you happy.’

Hermione smiled. She was still nervous, the butterflies continuing to make her stomach churn, but she knew this was what she wanted.

After Christmas nothing had improved with Ron. In fact, if anything it had got worse. He now seemed to be working late almost every night although Hermione wasn’t convinced he was being truthful about what he was doing considering the number of times he arrived home very drunk late at night. But she hadn’t wanted to look too closely at what he was up to, worried in case she found something that would make her even unhappier than she already was. And on the very odd occasion Ron did decide to spend the evening at home he was just as distant with her as he had always been. It served to show up all the other flaws in their relationship, the ones Hermione had spent so many years trying to pretend weren’t there, even more.

She had once tried to talk to Harry about Ron, not entirely sure whether she wanted reassurance or the truth, but he had sensibly refused to discuss the situation with her. She had assumed at the time this was because he didn’t want to come between his two best friends. It had annoyed her a little, but deep inside she could understand Harry’s reluctance, especially if . . . but she definitely didn’t want her mind to go down that route.

Whatever Ron was up to, his actions towards her showed quite blatantly that his interest in her had waned completely. He didn’t want her, didn’t want to be with her, even, and it tore her heart apart to realise that this was the case. She was more miserable than she had ever been, yet part of her didn’t want to let go of him, didn’t want to admit defeat. But another, slowly growing part inside of her wanted things to change and wanted to be happy.

Draco had made it clear he desired her and wanted to make her happy, and as Hermione thought about him over the next month or so, remembering his exciting kisses, she realised he probably could do exactly that. Regardless of how they had been at school, her desire for him, increased no doubt by Ron’s lack of attentiveness, was just as he had said it was. She did want him, just as much as he wanted her, but was far too scared to admit it or act, scared to take the step that would see her cheating on Ron who had been her lover and husband for so many years, regardless of what he might or might not be doing behind her back.

For over three months Draco had left her alone as she had asked him to on Christmas Day. But when eventually he could bear it no longer, he sent his eagle owl to Hermione’s office with a request that she meet him for lunch. It was then that she discovered to her surprise that she had been missing him, too, and she responded immediately, suggesting they spend the afternoon together, perhaps to go shopping again. Within days she had arranged to take the afternoon off work, sending Hugo to his grandparents for the night as she was sure Ron would be working late as usual and she had no idea how late she would be back. Ron, of course, was happy to let her go shopping; he didn’t even question it. He didn’t care as long as he didn’t have to go with her.

And now Hermione was here in Draco’s bedroom, and although she was scared she was excited too. She thought of Ron for a moment, but she couldn’t feel guilty. He had starved her of affection for too long now and she couldn’t live the rest of her life like that. If Draco could give her even a fraction of the passion she had dreamed of all her life, then she would be happy.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Draco asked quietly.

‘That you’re finally going to get your Christmas present,’ Hermione said with a small smile. ‘I just hope you’re not too disappointed.’

‘No chance of that,’ Draco whispered, his lips finding her throat.

Suddenly he released her and disappeared across the room. A moment later he was back, carrying the necklace he had given her for Christmas.

‘Will you wear it for me?’ he asked anxiously.

Hermione nodded, remembering the exquisite jewellery as he lifted his hands to clasp the precious item around her throat.

‘Beautiful!’ he announced with a smile. ‘And the necklace isn’t bad, either.’

Hermione laughed, the tension broken, and shaking her head she walked over to the mirrored wardrobe to see what the necklace looked like. He was right: it really was beautiful.

Draco moved behind her wrapping his arms around her waist as he kissed her neck. As they stood there both looking in the mirror, his hands moved up from her waist to cup her breasts and squeezed gently.

‘Will you undress for me?’ he asked softly.

Hermione bit her lip nervously as she considered. Although she was wearing the underwear Draco had bought her — the Slytherin set, of course, as she knew it would give Draco an extra thrill — and it did make her feel sexy, she was all too aware that her body wasn’t perfect. Two children and time had taken its toll. She was curvy, a little too curvy in some places, maybe, and doing a striptease for Draco had never crossed her mind.

Draco seemed to sense her unease. ‘You are aware that I find you totally desirable, aren’t you, Hermione?’ he asked, his voice heavy with said desire. ‘Even more sexy than you were at school. You’re completely tantalising.’ His mouth found her neck again and planted whisper-soft kisses all over it.

Smiling, both at the compliment and the feel of the kisses, Hermione made her decision. She pulled from Draco’s grasp and turned so her back was to the mirror. She bent down and quickly removed her boots and socks. That done, she stood again.

‘Happy Christmas, Draco,’ she said seductively, as she pulled off the cardigan she had been wearing and reached to unbutton her blouse.

Draco watched Hermione eagerly, completely focussed on her. He didn’t say a word as she pulled off the material and threw it to the floor, although he smiled happily when he realised she was wearing the Slytherin-coloured underwear. A moment later her trousers went the same way, leaving her only in the sexy silk bra and knickers. She could feel Draco’s gaze sweeping across her and for a second panic set in: he would change his mind, he would tell her to get dressed and leave. But a moment later she was able to breathe again.

‘Gorgeous!’ Draco stated, his voice a husky rasp.

Happier now, Hermione reached back to undo the bra but Draco stopped her.

‘Not yet,’ he said, his voice slightly more normal although the desire was still evident in both his voice and eyes. ‘I want to savour this, Hermione — finally getting to see you in Slytherin colours.’

‘On your bed, wasn’t it?’ Hermione joked lightly.

The look Draco gave her then was so predatory she couldn’t help but shiver with pleasure.

‘Oh yes, definitely on my bed.’

Hermione climbed onto the bed and lay down as seductively as she could manage. It really was every bit as comfortable as she had expected.

Draco just continued to stare at her, not moving. ‘You look fantastic,’ he told her. ‘So much better than I ever imagined.’

He quickly removed his own clothes and moved towards the bed, now wearing only a pair of black jersey shorts. Hermione saw that time had made him thicker around the waist although he was still well-toned for his age. His chest was well-muscled with just a sprinkling of pale blond hair, and the muscles were evident in his arms. He was obviously much stronger than she had always thought and looked like he spent some time working out. Draco climbed onto the bed beside her, his hand caressing her stomach as he bent over to kiss her. Hermione melted into his embrace and for a long time the couple lay gently stroking each other as they kissed.

‘I want to give you a massage,’ Draco said eventually. ‘Keep it slow still.’ His fingers were gently brushing her bare skin although he had made no attempt to touch her intimately. ‘Will you let me?’

Hermione smiled happily. She was already feeling much more relaxed in Draco’s company than she had at the beginning, and his gentle touches were arousing her.

‘Shouldn’t that be the other way round? I would have thought you would want me to massage you.’

Draco bent to kiss her again. ‘Later, maybe, but it’s my turn first.’ He leant over to open the drawer in the bedside cabinet and retrieved a bottle of oil. ‘Lie on your front,’ he ordered, and Hermione did as he asked. ‘Just relax,’ he whispered as his lips found her spine and kissed down it from her bra to the top of her knickers.

Hermione gave a small moan of desire.

Opening the bottle, Draco took a small amount of the oil and rubbed his hands together to warm it before running them over Hermione’s right calf. Slowly he worked, massaging the whole of the back of her lower leg thoroughly before moving on to the other leg. Equally slowly he moved up her body — her thighs, followed by her back, finally removing the underwear to give better access to her skin. His hands massaged in long, flowing sweeps down her back and over her buttocks, then around her shoulders and neck and down her arms. At no time did he rush, intent only on giving Hermione as much pleasure as possible, and it was obvious from her soft moans that she really was enjoying it.

When Draco had finally finished with her left arm he asked her to turn over, gazing with appreciation at her beautiful body. Desire raced through him and he longed to speed things up now, but he had promised to move slowly and he knew the wait would be worth it. He removed his shorts, in case Hermione was embarrassed at being the only one naked, before retrieving more oil.

Starting with her left leg this time, he gently massaged Hermione’s whole foot, playing with the toes as he worked the oil into the sensitive balls of her feet. He moved on to the shins followed by the thighs, then slowly over her stomach, still not touching her most intimate area. Moving to the other end of the large bed he worked downwards again — first the neck, shoulders and arms, and finally the long, sweeping movements down her body, his hands caressing round and over her breasts without stopping.

Hermione’s body felt so good and his own arousal was at the same level as hers, the slow pace serving to draw them both out. Well over an hour after he first began the massage, Draco’s hand slid between Hermione’s legs, finally feeling the dampness of her arousal. His fingers slid slowly and gently inside her, his own moans of desire joining with the small noises Hermione was making. His mouth captured hers as she lay beneath him enjoying his touch.

‘Let me love you,’ he whispered, his mouth by her ear. ‘I want this with you so much, Hermione. Please let me make you happy.’

Hermione nodded, not sure she was able to speak. Draco’s gentle touches had aroused her so much that she was having trouble not just grabbing him. From wanting things to go slowly, she now needed more; she needed the love that Draco was offering and she didn’t want to wait any longer. At long last she was ready to be happy and she was willing to grab that happiness with both hands. Love worked both ways, and she wanted Draco to be happy too; in fact, it was vital that he was, especially after everything he had done for her.

‘Make love to me, Draco,’ she told him. ‘I’m ready, and I want this so much, too.’

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione stretched, flexing her body before sinking back into Draco’s arms. She looked towards the window where the late afternoon sun was shining through, dappled light filtering and making patterns on the bed. She was feeling thoroughly exhausted after a particularly physical and extremely enjoyable bout of lovemaking and was wishing she didn’t have to get up shortly.

‘You know we really shouldn’t be doing this, Draco,’ she said. She still wasn’t feeling guilty about what she and Draco were doing, exactly, but . . . .

‘We’re not stopping now,’ Draco told her gently, pulling her closer to him as if worried she was going to try to get away. ‘Not now, not when we’ve finally both got what we wanted. Why should we stop when we make each other happy?’

‘But it’s wrong,’ Hermione said, sounding a little disquieted. ‘If Ron knew—’

‘Do you think he would care?’ Draco asked honestly. ‘He’s not the most interested husband in the world, is he? Does he make love to you like I do?’

There was pain in Hermione’s eyes at his words. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t be happy about what we’re doing . . . neither would Astoria, would she?’

Draco shrugged. ‘You know, I’m honestly not sure she would care one way or another. Knowing her, she’d be happy that you’re stopping any chance of her and me having to get physical. She might even pay you to take me off her hands.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Hermione retorted. ‘And I know Ron wouldn’t feel that way. He would feel deeply betrayed by what we’ve done . . . and he’s right. I have betrayed him.’

Draco snorted. ‘The only reason your husband would be upset is because you chose me when he’s always hated me. He doesn’t love you, Hermione. I’ve seen the way he acts with you. It’s the way you two were at school, too. It’s about time you admitted that to yourself and stopped hanging on to something that so obviously doesn’t exist. I love you and I’m willing to do anything you want to keep you with me.’ He gave her a gentle kiss on the end of her nose. ‘You know I can make you happy, darling — I do make you happy, and you make me happier than I’ve ever been.’

Hermione gave a huge sigh. It was true that Draco made her happy, and he was without doubt a fantastic lover. Sex with him was everything she had always dreamed of but never got with Ron, but she had never expected the relationship to continue. If she was honest, she hadn’t really expected a relationship in the first place. She had met up with Draco needing to rid herself of the frustration she felt in her marriage to Ron, anticipating that it would be a one-off that she would probably spend the rest of her life trying to forget had ever happened.

Having tried and failed to keep away from Draco, she had intended to scratch the itch that had been building since the Halloween party and the first kiss between them. Once they had done that she would go back to her life with Ron. At best she would have a nice memory to sustain her through the troubled times ahead while she waited for her husband to find his way back to her again; at worst, crippling guilt that she would have to try to bury. But she knew that whatever the outcome, she had to get Draco out of her system.

Instead, the afternoon with Draco had exceeded her wildest expectations and soon the two of them had embarked upon a full-blown affair. Hermione suddenly found herself unwilling to give up the happiness and pleasure she had found in her lover, and he was desperate to do anything to keep Hermione with him. It soon became clear that Ron hadn’t noticed the change in Hermione or that she wasn’t spending all her free time at home; he was so rarely there these days that he had no idea what she was doing.

But although Hermione was enjoying the attention she got from Draco, part of her was still in love with Ron and wished things could be okay between them, and this was something she was having a hard time reconciling. How could she get serious with Draco when she still loved her husband? It just wasn’t possible. If she had to make a choice then Ron would always come first, especially when she had her family to consider, too. There was no way she was selfish enough to ruin her children’s lives.       

Draco knew Hermione was battling with her feelings for Weasley which were, amazingly, still incredibly strong even after the shameful way the idiot treated her. He didn’t dare push the question of their relationship too far, worried that he would cause her to run away forever, but he was determined to make Hermione realise that he was the one she should spend her future with and that meant talking her round when the self-doubt and guilt began to creep in, as it occasionally did. As always, the talking would be better translated by him physically showing her his love for her, reminding her of what he gave her that Weasley didn’t, and eventually Hermione’s doubts would disappear again, submerged by his ardour, and their relationship would continue.

It wasn’t ideal, by any stretch of the imagination. He would much rather they dumped their respective spouses and set up home together, allowing their relationship to flourish and bloom in public. But he knew Hermione wasn’t willing to even consider it at the moment, worried about what it would do to the children. All he could do was bide his time and slowly chip away at her reservations and hope that eventually she would see sense.    


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione was feeling really pissed off. She had a major problem and she needed someone to talk to. Ron obviously wasn’t an option. After all, it was his behaviour that had caused her to begin the affair with Draco in the first place. Harry was no good, either. As best friend to both her and Ron he wouldn’t be able to advise her in an unbiased way, even if he would actually listen to her in the first place.

That, of course, ruled out Ginny, too. As Ron’s sister and Harry’s wife, she was even more partisan. Hermione sighed. She was beginning to regret that her entire group of friends was made up almost exclusively of Weasleys. There was absolutely no one she could talk to, but if she didn’t talk to someone she was going to go mad.

Somehow, despite all the precautions she had taken, Hermione was pregnant. She spent a week or so hoping and praying that her period had just been delayed, probably because of stress caused by her worrying about it, but eventually she decided that rather than wait any longer for it to start she would do a home test and put her mind at ease.

She left the office during her lunch break and went to the nearest branch of Boots and spent quite some time in there looking at the variety of tests available. Eventually, she picked one that seemed foolproof. There were no thick or thin lines, no blotches or colour changes involved that could cause confusion or frustration. If she was pregnant it would say so, clear letters spelling out the word.    

Hermione had tried to put the test out of her mind that evening while she helped Hugo with his homework, and after he went to bed she attempted to finish working on a report she was writing for Kingsley Shacklebolt. For once she was actually pleased Ron wasn’t at home. Although he rarely took notice of anything to do with her these days, she was sure even he would have picked up on her tension and questioned her about it. But as ever, he was out ‘working late’, which she now knew for certain was a euphemism for shagging his mistress.

When Hermione had first seen the clear evidence of Ron’s infidelity she had been a little upset. Although she was playing the same game with Draco and was probably in no state to criticise her husband’s behaviour, a little part of her had always hoped she had been wrong, that Ron hadn’t been playing away from home and that eventually, he would realise he missed her as a lover and things would get better between them. Once that happened she had every intention of ending the relationship with Draco.

But as the months went on her relationship with her husband hadn’t improved at all. Ron was away from their home so often now she complained to Harry that she had almost forgotten what he looked like. Hermione had been trying not to learn what he got up to in the evenings for so long now it had become second nature to not look too closely at any of his activities. But at the same time she knew part of the reason she had started the relationship with Draco in the first place was because deep down she had known for a long time that Ron was cheating on her.

The problem was that as much she loved Draco — and she knew she really did love him — she still loved Ron, too, and he was the father of her children, which gave him that extra tick in the box regardless of his playing away. When Draco had first suggested she leave Ron for him Hermione completely freaked out and almost ended the relationship there and then, but eventually he managed to calm her down, and with any mention of them ending their respective marriages being dropped, the relationship had continued.

Draco had mentioned it once or twice in passing since then, but always in a jokey way, careful to ensure he didn’t upset Hermione. As time went on and Ron showed no sign of leaving, Hermione eventually concluded that he had chosen not to end their marriage for the same reason she had trouble considering doing it.

It had come as something of a shock to Hermione to realise she would rather pretend her marriage was happy and stable and put up with Ron having an affair than taking a chance on a possibly happy life with Draco. She knew it was cowardice, pure and simple; but at the end of the day, whilst her relationship with Ron was now almost completely the same as it had been at school — she couldn’t even remember the last time they had been sexually intimate with each other — their friendship was so comfortable after so many years it was hard to consider them not being together. And of course there were the children to consider. Hugo was due to start at Hogwarts in September, and the idea of breaking up the family left Hermione cold.

But now she was going to have a baby, as she had discovered only a few minutes earlier when the little stick had done exactly what the box had said it would and blared out in bright blue writing that she was pregnant. Hermione wrapped the stick in some toilet paper and slid it back into the packaging, feeling the moisture of tears wet on her cheeks. After flushing the loo and washing her hands she picked up the box and left the bathroom, heading for the kitchen where she threw it into the bin, burying it deeply.

She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and wiped away her tears as she headed for the pantry to get the cereal and sugar out. She breathed deeply for a couple of seconds, making sure she was calm.

‘Hugo, are you dressed yet? Your breakfast is on the table, sweetheart,’ she called up the stairs to her son.

Hermione was pleased to hear that her voice sounded normal. She opened the cupboard and pulled out three bowls and mugs, placing them on the table as she made her way to the drawer to get spoons and the milk and pumpkin juice from the fridge. She put the kettle on the stove and rinsed the teapot out with hot water from the tap before putting tea leaves in the bottom.

‘Ron, can you go and make sure Hugo is ready for school, please?’ she told her husband as he joined her in the kitchen. He was glancing at the back page of the _Daily Prophet_.

Ron nodded at Hermione’s comment, and dropping the newspaper on the kitchen table he headed back out the door and upstairs. Hermione could hear him talking to Hugo, hurrying him up, and a few minutes later the two of them entered the kitchen. She put the teapot on the table and sat down to join the others as Ron poured cereal into bowls for the three of them. Hugo added milk, then put a large spoonful of sugar on his cereal. Hermione poured him a mug of pumpkin juice before starting to eat. Ron was looking at the newspaper again.

‘It’s open evening at the school tonight,’ Hermione said as she stirred her tea. ‘We’ve got an appointment to see Miss Mockridge about Hugo’s work at seven o’clock. You are going to come, aren’t you?’

Ron dropped the newspaper a few inches to look over the top of it at her. A momentary look of guilt crossed his face but he managed to shift it.

‘I’m supposed to be working,’ he said quietly. Hermione’s face hardened as she felt her temper rising. She couldn’t believe Ron was going to choose his mistress over his son. Ron obviously caught something of her look as he added rapidly, ‘But I’m sure I can get back by then.’

‘Can you get there by six thirty?’ Hugo asked excitedly, not picking up on the tension hanging between his parents. ‘We’ve been working on a special presentation and it’s taking place before the teacher interviews. It’s going to be really good.’

Ron looked at his son. ‘I will try, Hugo, but I’m in the middle of a big case at the moment. I will definitely be there by seven, though.’

Hermione smiled at Hugo, who looked a little deflated at Ron’s comment. ‘I’ll definitely be there for the presentation, darling, and I’m sure your dad will do his best to get there, too.’

She looked pointedly at Ron, who nodded his head briefly then closed and folded the newspaper and put it down on the kitchen table. He stood up.

‘Well, I need to get to work, especially if I want to get to the presentation.’ He ran his hand over Hugo’s head, ruffling his hair. ‘I’ll see you tonight, Hugo.’ He looked at Hermione once again. ‘I’ll see you later, love.’

Hermione watched as Ron left the room, then turned to Hugo, who had now finished his breakfast.

‘Right, time for school, mister. Where has your tie gone?’

Hugo shrugged. ‘I couldn’t find it when I looked. I can’t remember what I did with it.’

Hermione sighed. ‘Did you put it in your bag? Go and get your blazer and I’ll have a look in your bag for you.’

Hugo slid from his seat and raced out of the kitchen. Hermione heard his footsteps thumping up the stairs. She rubbed her eyes then left the kitchen herself to find Hugo’s bag on the floor of the cupboard in the hall. She opened the bag and started to rummage through it, finding all sorts of rubbish. She would need to get him to have a clear-out at the weekend. Eventually she found the tie, and pulling it out of the bag she used her wand to freshen it up a little and remove the creases. She handed it to her son as he arrived back in the hall, having thundered back down the stairs.

‘Have you got everything?’ she asked Hugo, giving him a quick once-over to make sure there was nothing obvious missing.

Hugo nodded. ‘You will definitely come to the presentation, won’t you, Mum?’ he asked. He was trying not to sound anxious, but the look on his face gave it away.

Hermione smiled and pulled him into her arms, giving him a big hug. ‘Of course I will, darling, and you know your dad will try his hardest to be there, too. He’s just very busy at the moment.’

Hugo pulled out of his mother’s arms, looking a little embarrassed. He felt he was a bit too old for all that silly stuff.

His voice was a touch petulant as he said, ‘He’s always busy these days. We never get to do anything with him anymore.’

‘You heard what he said, he’s got a big case on,’ Hermione said soothingly. ‘Hopefully, once that’s finished he will have a bit more time to spend with us. Right, come on. Let’s get going, otherwise I’m going to be late for work.’

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione sat in her office trying to work out what to do. She had spent the previous twenty minutes looking at the report she had written, trying to make sure she had included everything she wanted to highlight, but she was having a huge problem concentrating. First of all, and most important in her mind at the moment, was Ron’s reaction to attending Hugo’s presentation.

While she was aware that the Auror office had been particularly busy recently, she knew they weren’t so busy that Harry couldn’t get home at a decent time every evening. She knew this because Ginny had mentioned to her on several occasions things she and Harry had done during the evening, extending an invitation to Hermione and Ron to join them.

She was sure Harry knew Ron was having an affair, it would be almost impossible for him not to, but he had obviously not mentioned it to Ginny and Hermione was too embarrassed to say anything. Instead, she made excuses as to why they couldn’t attend the various events Ginny recommended, even going as far as to cry off at the last moment with supposed illness in order to keep the cover-up going.

Hermione had learned to live with Ron not wanting to be a part of the family except when it suited him, but his hesitation at agreeing to go to Hugo’s presentation made her mad. If he was going to continue to be in this marriage, the least he could do was show up when it was something to do with his kids. She didn’t care if he didn’t do things she wanted to do, although deep inside Hermione knew that wasn’t true, either — she desperately wanted him to be a proper part of the family — but he would make time for his children. No little tart of a mistress was as important as them, whatever Ronald might think.

His attitude had seriously upset her, to the point where she was considering having a word with him about it even though she had never wanted to tackle the issue head-on. But she didn’t dare risk it today in case it sent him into one of his moods, then he probably wouldn’t turn up at all, and that would seriously dent her son’s already fragile ego. And she had a feeling that Ron’s big case was going to continue at least until Hugo went to Hogwarts, at which point he might not bother coming home at all.

Hermione looked at the report on her desk once more. She knew her feelings were being clouded by her other problem, the one she didn’t want to acknowledge just yet, although she was aware she couldn’t put it off for too long. But was it just hormones that had caused her anger this morning? She didn’t think it was. Surely she was right to feel annoyed at Ron’s behaviour, although she knew if she was being honest she should be annoyed at her own, too.

Not so much with her relationship with Draco. Whilst that was undeniably wrong, she had at least managed to keep it under some sort of control until now and unlike Ron she had never let it interfere with her home life and children. What she should be annoyed about was her inability to face up to her husband about his extra-marital activities. Perhaps if she had confronted him when she had first had her suspicions about him, rather than burying her head in the sand and hoping it would all sort itself out they wouldn’t be in this situation and she wouldn’t be pregnant with someone else’s child.

Hermione sighed loudly, feeling the weight of her problems heavy on her shoulders. At least she was the only one in the office today. She was sure she really wouldn’t have been able to cope if she’d had to play nice with her work colleagues, both of whom she had very little in common with.

Audra, who usually sat opposite her, was half Hermione’s age and seemed to spend most of her day deciding what she was going to wear when she went out for the evening. She had a boyfriend she fought with regularly, the resulting moods leaving her fractious and argumentative, and Hermione was really glad she didn’t have to deal with her dramas on top of everything else on her plate today.

The other usual occupant of the room, a dreary little man called Benjamin, was on two weeks’ holiday. Hermione couldn’t claim to be disappointed to see the back of him, either. Whilst he was rarely any trouble, he did quite often manage to rub her up the wrong way without any provocation, so in her current mood it was lucky he wasn’t around.

Hermione looked at her watch. She had ten minutes until her meeting with Kingsley where she would outline her paper. She needed to knuckle down and get the bloody thing finished, and to do that she had to forget about Ron for the time being and trust that his guilt would be enough to get him to the presentation on time. As for the other thing, she definitely needed to forget about that, too. She just wished she could forget about it forever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione had spent almost two weeks since the open evening debating what she was going to do. Although Ron had made it to the presentation — just in time — he had been sullen and dismissive with her, obviously blaming her for making him attend when he would rather be elsewhere. The evening had been uncomfortable for both of them and the only time they had spoken to each other during the whole event had been during their conversation with Hugo’s teacher, when there hadn’t been any choice. They were pleased to learn that Hugo was doing well in classes. Miss Mockridge had been very complimentary about him, which had given Hermione a warm glow; the first nice thing to happen in her life in what seemed like forever.

Hugo had been overjoyed that his father had managed to get to the presentation. Ron had at least managed to hide his dissatisfaction from his son, but he had gone out shortly after they had arrived home and had not come back that night. For the next eight days he hadn’t made it home until the early hours of the morning and even at the weekend he hadn’t managed to stay at home for most of it, although he took Hugo out on the Sunday of the second week, now into the summer holidays, and joined Harry and the rest of the family males for an afternoon of Quidditch.

Hermione and Rose had joined Ginny and the other Weasley females, chatting and helping Molly to prepare food, but Hermione really didn’t want to be there. She was finding it harder and harder to pretend that everything was okay and she was happy, when she was actually feeling anything but.

Her worsening mood was what made her decide that she needed to talk to her best friend. She knew Harry wouldn’t want to talk to her, especially about Ron, but she really had no choice. She had no one else she could talk to, and things couldn’t continue as they were. She had spent so much time now thinking about the situation she was in and the various ways it could play out and only a heart-to-heart with her hopefully straight-talking friend would help her to clearly see the path she should take.

Once the men returned from their Quidditch match and were all hungrily tucking into the huge feast Molly had prepared, Hermione pulled Harry aside, although he was obviously reluctant. 

‘I need to talk to you,’ Hermione said. She looked and sounded really miserable. Before he had a chance to protest she added, ‘I know you don’t want to, Harry, but this really is important. You know I wouldn’t ask unless it was, and you are the only person I can talk to.’

Harry sighed unhappily. In truth, he was surprised Hermione had waited so long before hauling him in for a chat. He loved both his best friends equally and had always worried deep down that eventually their relationship would end up causing a rift between them all, but amazingly it had never happened — until now.

He was sure Hermione must have been aware of what Ron had been up to for some time, but for some strange reason she had chosen to ignore it. Now it seemed she couldn’t let it go any longer, which didn’t bode well. But she was right. There was no one else she could talk to about this and he would be a crap friend if he didn’t listen to her when she needed a shoulder to cry on so badly.

He just hoped she wouldn’t ask him to tell her what she should do. Because the truth was he didn’t know. The selfish part of him, the part that wanted things to stay as they had always been, was tempted to tell her to put up with it, to carry on as things had always been and hope Ron would realise, like he always did eventually, that he was being a complete prat as usual.

But apart from leaving Hermione miserable, which obviously wasn’t fair on her, he knew from the few conversations he’d had with Ron — who also apparently hadn’t felt like sharing, and Harry hadn’t been unhappy about that — that Ron’s feelings for Hermione had pretty much reverted to what they were at school and he was seriously enamoured by the new woman he had chosen to add to his life. It was possible Ron could be talked around if Hermione was willing to make the effort, but after so many years of disappointment where he was concerned, would she be prepared to wait any longer for him?

Yes, Harry definitely hoped she didn’t ask him for his opinion.

The two of them left the house and walked out into the garden for some privacy, sitting under the tree and not talking as they ate; Hermione mainly moved her food around the plate rather than eating it. Harry glanced at her a few times trying to gauge her mood. She was obviously tense and unhappy but didn’t seem to be too overwrought. Then again, Hermione was normally the calmest and most collected person he knew, so if she was unhappy it really was serious. The last time he had seen Hermione this upset was when Ron had kissed Lavender Brown after their victorious Quidditch match win back in their sixth year at Hogwarts. It was always Ron who upset her in this way.

‘Is he in love with her?’ Hermione asked suddenly. Her voice was quiet and she didn’t look at Harry as she spoke.

Harry found himself taken by surprise by the question. He had expected her to begin by asking him to confirm that Ron was having an affair. But perhaps that was all too obvious, now he thought about it.

‘Does Ron love this . . . _woman_?’ Hermione asked again.

This time she did look at Harry, letting him know that she knew he was aware of the relationship and that she didn’t blame him in any way. Harry knew he could do nothing but be honest with his friend.

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know if he loves her, but he is definitely serious about her.’ He looked intently at Hermione. ‘I think it’s like when we were at school. He loves you, but he’s allowed other stuff to cloud the issue.’

‘We need to walk,’ Hermione said abruptly. She put her unfinished plate on the ground and stood up, wiping invisible grass from her bottom as she did so.

After a few seconds Harry stood, too. ‘Where do you want to go?’

‘I just need to get away from here for a while,’ Hermione said honestly.

Harry took her arm and the two of them walked across the grass towards the gate, heading for the lane into the village. After a few minutes of walking in silence Harry asked the question that confused him most.

‘If you knew he was having an affair, why did you never say anything to him?’

Hermione stopped, turning to face Harry. ‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly, her voice still gentle. ‘At first, I didn’t want to believe it was true, so I didn’t look too closely at what he was doing because I didn’t want to get upset.’ Harry said nothing. He let his friend release all the pain he knew she was feeling. ‘And then, when I couldn’t ignore it any longer, I was too scared to say anything in case he left us.’

Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione and hugged her tightly, hearing her soft cries as she wept on his shoulder. Suddenly he felt guilty for not doing something to stop Ron; but then, would that have made things any better? Ron and Hermione had always been in love with each other, but they were two very different people and their expectations always seemed to run completely contrary to each other. Maybe they really were just supposed to be friends. Whilst stopping Ron might have been good for Hermione, what would it have done to Ron — and more importantly, what would have happened to his and Ron’s friendship if he had interfered so completely?

Hermione pulled away as the tears slowed and looked at Harry.

‘Has he talked to you about it?’ she asked.

‘Not much,’ Harry admitted. ‘To be honest, Hermione, I’ve been trying to keep out of it. It’s not really any of my business, especially as you’re both my friends.’

‘I know. That’s why I didn’t bug you about it before. I knew it wasn’t fair to put you in the middle. But I really couldn’t leave it any longer,’ Hermione said. She paused for a moment as if thinking, then added, ‘if I ended our relationship would Ron marry her, do you think?’

Harry looked surprised again. Was Hermione really thinking of ending their marriage after all these years?

He shrugged. ‘Again, I don’t know . . . maybe. Why, is that a possibility?’ Hermione had started walking again. Harry caught her up. ‘When did you know for sure?’ he asked.

‘I think I knew quite early on but I didn’t want to admit it, otherwise I would be accepting what he was doing. But then Ginny kept inviting us to go out with you and her after work,’ Hermione said, her voice catching as she spoke. She was trying very hard not to cry again. ‘Ron kept telling me you were all working late, but once I knew you weren’t, I couldn’t ignore what he was doing any longer.’

‘But you never said anything.’

‘I told you, I was worried I would push him into leaving us if I confronted him. I didn’t want our children to be affected by the break-up of our marriage so I chose to pretend that everything was okay, that he wasn’t spending all his time in someone else’s bed.’ Hermione’s voice had taken on a slightly harder tone now.

They had reached the village and Harry led Hermione over to a bench on the village green, holding her hands as they sat down.

‘I kept wondering if he would tell me,’ Hermione said. ‘At first I kept thinking it couldn’t be anything serious, that it was just a fling and he would get over it in a few weeks. But as weeks turned to months I began to wonder whether he was going to leave. Then I thought maybe he was trying to protect the children, too. And of course we’ve never been very good at talking about things like that, have we?’ She gave a small wry grin.

Harry smiled, too. It was true that Ron and Hermione had always been completely rubbish about admitting their feelings for each other. That apparently hadn’t changed over the years.

‘But it’s become too much?’ he asked worriedly.

Hermione gave a huge sigh. ‘I wish I knew whether he would marry her or whether it really is just some sort of fling.’

Harry said nothing for a few minutes, then answered honestly, ‘I think it’s more than a fling, Hermione. I am sure Ron cares for you just like he always has. But at the moment you are not his love focus.’  

‘That’s what I’m thinking, too,’ Hermione agreed. ‘We seem to have reverted back to how we were before we went out with each other and that’s just not enough for me, Harry. And if he would rather be with her . . . .’

‘There’s a possibility he will come to his senses,’ Harry said rapidly, his heart sinking at the thought of Ron and Hermione separating. ‘You know what Ron’s like. Perhaps if the two of you sat down and talked about things properly, told each other how you really feel.’

‘Ah, but that’s the problem, isn’t it?’ Hermione said slowly. ‘How we really feel.’

‘You love each other,’ Harry stated certainly. ‘I know you do. It’s just been buried under stuff — but you can sort it out, surely?’

Hermione shook her head sadly. ‘I think it’s too late for that, Harry.’

Harry looked devastated. Although he was aware of how bad things had been getting between his friends, he hadn’t expected to hear Hermione being so dismissive, or maybe he had hoped he wouldn’t.

‘I have been having an affair, too,’ Hermione told him, her voice so quiet that Harry almost didn’t hear her.

He gazed at her in shock. She really was good at staying unruffled. He would never have guessed in a million years that she would ever be capable of cheating on Ron, let alone that she was actually doing it.

‘What?’ Harry was too surprised to say more. Then, after gaping for a moment, he managed, ‘Who?’

‘I’ve been seeing Draco Malfoy,’ Hermione admitted. Her voice was back to a normal level now she had got the initial bombshell of the shock confession out of the way. ‘It didn’t start until I knew in my heart that Ron was seeing someone else and had no intention of breaking it off and just being with me. I know it was wrong, but I was so unhappy, Harry, and Draco offered me the chance to change that . . . and I decided to take it.’

Pulling her hands from Harry’s, she pulled a tissue from her pocket and began to dab at her eyes, which were beginning to leak again. She sniffed, then blew her nose loudly.

‘But why Malfoy?’ Harry asked questioningly.

He thought back to the number of events in the last couple of years that the blond man had become involved in and how attentive and friendly he had seemed towards Hermione — making up for the nasty way he had treated her at school, Harry had always thought. But they were having a relationship, and he and Ron had never spotted a thing. Neither had any of the rest of the family, come to that. Hermione and Draco had done an amazing job of keeping it hidden.

‘Draco and I didn’t get together until I was sure Ron didn’t want me anymore,’ Hermione said. ‘But he is handsome and charming — at least he is these days — and he really does care for me. He promised me he would make me happy, and he does. But Ron’s still my husband.’

Harry blew out his cheeks, not entirely sure what to say. Both his best friends were cheating on each other. There was something faintly ridiculous about all of this.

‘Mal . . . Draco wants you to leave Ron?’ Harry asked, wondering suddenly if this was the big issue that was making Hermione unhappy — an ultimatum from Malfoy. ‘I take it he knows Ron’s having an affair, does he?’

Hermione gave a small smile. ‘He’s wanted me to leave Ron since the first time we slept together. Before then, actually. He pretty much suggested it at the first Halloween party he attended at Hogwarts. And no, he doesn’t know about Ron. He thinks I’m just unhappily married, that Ron and I just don’t get on very well any longer. He doesn’t know about the mistress.’

‘That’s not being very fair to him, is it?’ Harry asked, surprised to find he was feeling sympathy towards his old enemy. ‘I assume he thinks you love him.’

‘I do love him,’ Hermione stated without a trace of doubt in her voice. ‘I really do love Draco very much. But I still love Ron, too . . . and he’s the father of my children.’ She paused for a moment as she thought of the baby in her belly. ‘That’s why I need to know how serious it is between him and his mistress.’

‘But why now?’ Harry asked. ‘You and Draco have been together for . . . how long?’

‘Just over thirteen months. To be honest, Harry, I really never expected it to last this long. I thought Ron would come back to me and I would give up Draco, or that Draco would get bored with me and end it. But it hasn’t worked out that way. The thing is, with Hugo heading off to Hogwarts next month there will be no reason for Ron to come home at all with the way he is feeling about me at the moment, and I keep thinking now would be the time to call it quits. I know the children are still very young, but at least they are old enough to understand what’s happening, even if they don’t quite understand why.’

‘You think Ron might leave you?’ Harry asked, frowning. ‘What on earth has given you that impression?’

‘He’s hardly been home at all for the last two weeks,’ Hermione said candidly, and she could feel the old anger rising in her chest as she spoke. ‘Although I was seeing Draco I always made sure it didn’t affect my family in any way, and I certainly never put him before my children. But a couple of weeks ago, before he stopped coming home, Ron got annoyed with me because I made him go to Hugo’s open night when he wanted to be with _her_. If he’s at the stage where he’s more worried about his mistress than his children, surely that means he must be thinking of leaving.’    

‘He has been a bit stressed with work,’ Harry said, giving his friend a possible defence although inside he was reeling at what Hermione had just told him about Ron. ‘We have been very busy.’

‘I know that,’ Hermione said. ‘But this has gone beyond that, don’t you think?’

Harry didn’t reply. Hermione didn’t expect him to. She knew he was going to sit on the fence, not wanting to take sides.

‘Anyway, there’s something else I need to take into account now,’ Hermione added. She stopped. Her heart was pounding at the thought of sharing her secret with Harry.

Harry looked at her expectantly.

‘I’m pregnant.’

‘Pregnant!’ Harry blurted loudly in astonishment. ‘You don’t mean with Malfoy’s baby?’

Hermione nodded her head slowly. ‘Yes, it’s Draco’s. To be honest, Harry I can’t remember the last time Ron and I actually had sex. It hasn’t really happened at all since he’s been with her.’

‘Does Malfoy know?’ Harry asked. ‘Why did you get pregnant?’

‘I didn’t do it on purpose,’ Hermione said agitatedly. ‘It was an accident and I have still got absolutely no idea how it happened . . . and no, I haven’t told Draco yet, that’s why I need to make a decision . . . and sooner rather than later, obviously.’ 

‘What do you want to do?’ Harry asked. He was still trying to get over Hermione’s latest revelation.

‘I don’t know,’ Hermione admitted, sounding miserable again. ‘That was why I needed to talk to you. I was hoping it might give me some clarity. The only thing I know is that things can’t stay as they are.’

‘You need to decide what you’re going to do about the baby,’ Harry said.

‘I know that, too. But that depends on everything else, doesn’t it?’

Harry hugged Hermione again. He couldn’t believe what a complete mess his best friends had made of their marriage. Hermione was right, something needed to happen, and fast. He was aware that asking Ron to do anything was a non-starter, as his friend had trouble making even the simplest of decisions; the mess they were in now showed that much. So, as she had suspected, the job was going to fall to Hermione. Somehow she was going to have to be the one to make the decision — and with a sinking heart, Harry knew he was the one who was going to have to force her to make it.

‘If there were no outside factors involved at all, no kids or anything to worry about — if it was purely down to a straight choice between the two of them — who would you go for, Ron or Draco? Which one of them would make you the happiest?’ Harry asked once he had released Hermione again a few minutes later. 

Hermione thought about the question. It was a tough one. On one hand she loved Ron, had been in love with him since she was thirteen; but if she was completely honest, for most of that time he hadn’t made her very happy. Draco she had detested for her entire time at school and then she hadn’t seen him for almost twenty years, yet almost from their first meeting since he had come back into her life he had made her feel special, had given her the happiness and pleasure he had promised her he would, and that had been nothing but an unfulfilled wish with Ron. The truth was that there was only one man who was going to make her happy, and it wasn’t her husband.

‘Draco,’ she admitted quietly.

Harry nodded his head as if he had been expecting her to say that.

‘You need to tell Draco you’re pregnant,’ he said gently, ‘and then you need to talk to Ron.’

Hermione hugged Harry and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘You have no idea what a relief it is to have told you.’

Harry smiled. ‘That was two huge secrets on your side alone. No wonder you were going mental trying to process all that lot.’ He looked at her more seriously as he stroked her cheek. ‘You need to be happy, Hermione — and you need to do whatever it takes to make that happen, however difficult it may be to begin with.’

‘I know,’ Hermione said, blinking back tears as they stood up and began to walk back towards the Burrow. ‘You won’t say anything to anyone, will you?’

‘My lips are sealed,’ Harry promised.


	5. Chapter 5

The owl tapped its beak on the window of Draco’s study. He looked up, frowning. He wasn’t expecting anything from anyone. Swivelling his chair, he turned to open the clasp on the window, allowing the bird entrance. He didn’t recognise it as belonging to any of his friends. Perhaps it was one of the school owls with another communication about Scorpius, informing of yet more trouble he and Albus had wreaked during the final few days of school that the teachers had only just discovered. He just hoped it wasn’t a letter telling him the boy couldn’t go back, although the two jokers had never done anything that bad. Well . . . at least as far as he knew.

The owl landed on the desk and held out its leg to reveal a parchment. Draco carefully removed the paper and opened his desk drawer in hopes there might be some owl treats in there. There weren’t. He stroked the owl soothingly.

‘Sorry, no treats, I’m afraid,’ he told it.

The owl hooted once mournfully, then rose gracefully into the air and flew back out the window. After watching it go, Draco picked up the parchment and unrolled it. A moment later his heart was pounding and a nasty feeling was roiling around in his stomach.

Hermione had sent the note. She wanted to see him urgently. In all the months they had been together she had never sent him an owl nor had she requested his presence quite so abruptly. He just hoped nothing bad had happened. Draco looked at his watch. It would be time for dinner shortly, the only time in his day he traditionally spent with Astoria, but he was more than happy to forgo that dubious pleasure to see Hermione instead.

However, he couldn’t help worrying about why she wanted to speak to him so urgently. She had requested he come to her home, so she definitely wasn’t thinking of sex. Even if Ron wasn’t at home, Hugo and Rose probably would be, and he couldn’t imagine Hermione being the sort of person who would get physical with her lover while her children were upstairs in their bedrooms. That meant she wanted to discuss something with him, and whatever it was it was too important to wait until the next time they were due to meet up.

Was she going to end the relationship? Draco really hoped that wasn’t the case. Since his association with Hermione had become more intimate he was happier than he had ever been, and he had thought Hermione too had seen an improvement in her life. But he knew she was still in love with Ron and as the father of her children he would probably always come first in her life, regardless of her feelings for him.

Although she had steadfastly refused to discuss or even consider marrying him and starting their own family after the one time he had seriously suggested it, Draco had always hoped that eventually she would realise he was the one who could make her happy, and she would leave her husband and marry him instead.

He knew Hermione was worried about what effect a divorce would have on her children and also on Scorpius, as he too would be affected by the break-up of his parents’ marriage. But whilst Draco understood her reluctance, he was more pragmatic about the situation and was convinced that in the long term the children would all be happier with parents who wanted to be together rather than having to live with the tension, anger, and in the case of his own marriage, the coldness that their unhappy relationships created.

If he could only get Hermione to take that step — but his ‘brave’ Gryffindor wasn’t courageous enough to take control of her happiness. He didn’t push, although he did joke about it occasionally just to remind her he hadn’t given hope up completely, worried that Hermione would end their relationship as she had threatened to on the one occasion he had been serious with her.

Part of him wanted to ignore Hermione’s request. If he didn’t go to see her he wouldn’t give her the opportunity to end it. But most of him, which already wanted to be with Hermione all the time, needed to know why she wanted to see him so badly, even if the news wasn’t good. So, making up his mind, he went to tell Astoria he was going out. She wasn’t best pleased, but then she never was where he was concerned, so that wasn’t anything new.

He needed to get an idea of what was going on. He didn’t know whether Ron would be there, or the children or whether there had been an accident or something. Apparating close to Hermione’s house, he spent a short while checking out the residence, spying on the family — he established that Ron wasn’t at home, although Hugo was, he had no idea about Rose — before finally going to knock on the front door.

When Hermione opened the door the stressed and unhappy expression on her face made his stomach churn once more. Draco longed to wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly and tell her everything would be fine, but he knew he couldn’t.

‘Thank you for coming so quickly,’ Hermione said quietly as she stepped back to let Draco into the house. She glanced up the stairs for a moment before showing him into the lounge.

‘You said you wanted to see me urgently,’ Draco said simply, taking hold of Hermione’s hands as she entered the room. ‘I was worried something had happened to you. Is everything okay?’

Hermione pulled Draco down onto the sofa next to her as she thought for a moment. No, everything most definitely wasn’t okay but now it came to it she was finding this more difficult than she had ever imagined she would. She gnawed at her bottom lip, worry that Draco would reject her flooding through her, causing her to shake a little.

‘Hermione, has something happened?’ Draco sounded worried now.

She shook her head but was unable to speak.

‘I take it Ron’s not here?’ Draco asked politely.

‘No, he’s working late.’ Hermione’s voice was a little sullen when she spoke and it put Draco on his guard. Had they had an argument? She let go of Draco’s hands. ‘And Rose is staying with one of her friends. Hugo is upstairs, though.’

Draco nodded understandingly. ‘So what did you want to see me about, Hermione?’

‘I’m sorry I got you here,’ Hermione said quietly. ‘I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.’

‘You know you didn’t,’ Draco said honestly. ‘You’re the most important thing in my life, darling. Surely you must know that by now?’

Hermione bit her lip, looking a little nervous. ‘Do you remember when you asked me to marry you?’ she began.

Draco nodded, his heart thudding in his chest once again. Of course he remembered. After he had asked her she had tried to end their relationship. That _was_ what she was leading up to, after all. But then Hermione spoke again, her voice hesitant and uncertain.

‘Do you still want to marry me? Would you . . . if I left Ron, I mean?’

Draco, who had been preparing to hear the worst, was floored by her question. It seemed so ridiculous that she should even need to ask. Hadn’t he told her every time he was with her how much in love with her he was, how he would happily spend every minute of the rest of his life with her if she would just give him the chance? But it seemed that whatever had caused her current state of mind had made Hermione doubt the sincerity of his desire for her. Fortunately, he could rectify that.

Springing up from the sofa, Draco dropped to his knees on the floor in front of Hermione, his hands grabbing hers and holding them tightly.

‘Of course I would. I will. Hermione, please marry me. You know how much I want to be with you. Say yes and be my wife.’

Draco could see the glisten of tears in Hermione’s eyes as he spoke. She looked intently at him for several long minutes, during which he began to wonder if he had done something wrong. Just as he thought of asking her to tell him what the hell was going on, she answered him.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, her head nodding, slowly at first but then, as the tears began to flow faster, like a mad nodding dog. ‘Yes, oh yes, Draco.’

Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione and kissed her passionately, not caring that he was in Ron’s house or that their son was upstairs. Nothing mattered to him now except that Hermione had finally agreed to be his wife. She had made him happier than he had ever imagined he could be.

‘Are you serious about this, Hermione?’ Draco asked once the kiss had finished, suddenly worried that whilst Hermione had agreed to marry him, she hadn’t actually been talking about doing that, just reassuring herself of his devotion to her. ‘I mean, are you really going to leave Ron for me?’ 

Hermione pulled Draco onto the sofa next to her, looking deeply into his eyes so he knew she was being sincere. ‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘If you want me, I’m yours.’ 

Draco realised he had been holding his breath as he waited for Hermione’s response. He grinned widely. ‘I can’t believe you’ve finally said yes,’ he said, sounding overjoyed. Then, sobering a little, he asked, ‘What’s going on, Hermione? What has happened to make you change your mind?’

Hermione squeezed his hands tightly and bit her lip again. It was time for her to be completely honest with Draco. He deserved nothing less and she was fed up with all the secrets and lies. She just hoped he would understand.

‘I haven’t been entirely open with you, Draco,’ she said worriedly. ‘I haven’t lied to you, but I might have misled you.’ Draco looked at her with confusion. ‘You knew I was unhappy in my marriage, but it wasn’t just because Ron and I weren’t getting on any longer. He’s been having an affair for the last couple of years.’

Draco looked surprised. ‘Really? I will admit that does surprise me. I would never have thought he had it in him.’

‘I kept hoping it was just a fling and he would get rid of her eventually, but when he didn’t and the relationship became too obvious to ignore, that was when I started getting really unhappy with my life as it was. You had already made your interest in me quite clear by then, and I realised I needed more than to wait around and see if Ron would choose me and our family over her. You told me you would make me happy and I decided to take the chance.

‘But you know I still love Ron and probably always will, and I don’t want to hurt my children, so when you asked me to marry you last time I couldn’t even consider it. I even thought about ending our relationship. I am so sorry, Draco. I understand if you are annoyed with me for not telling you about Ron.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Draco asked gently. ‘You must know I wouldn’t have said anything to anyone else. And perhaps talking about it might have helped you come to terms with what was happening earlier.’

Hermione gave a wry smile. ‘I didn’t tell anyone,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t even talk to Harry about it. When it started I buried my head in the sand, not wanting to believe that Ron could be cheating on me. By the time I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was, I was already seeing you and you were doing exactly what you promised — you were making me happier than I had been for years. I didn’t want to bring things down by talking about it.’

‘But something has happened now?’ Draco asked gravely. ‘Has he decided to leave?’

Hermione shook her head. ‘No, I was the one who decided. Whilst Ron was still part of the family I wasn’t willing to even consider breaking it up, but a few weeks ago he tried to get out of Hugo’s open evening at school because he wanted to be with his mistress instead.  That was when I realised his family were no longer as important to him as she is. I knew there was no way back from that. He no longer loves me in the way I need him to if we were to stay married and have any chance at happiness. He doesn’t love me the way you do.’

She looked worriedly at Draco, who gave her a smile of encouragement. ‘And I realised that I don’t love him anymore either, not in that way. But I do love you.’ She broke off for a moment to let her comment sink in. ‘Maybe it was over-reaction to what he did, but realistically it needed to be sorted. We couldn’t continue to see each other indefinitely without someone finding out, and because I love you I wasn’t willing to just sit back any longer and pretend nothing was happening. But I wasn’t sure whether you were serious or you might have changed your mind.’

‘What do you mean, you didn’t know if I was serious?’ Draco asked, sounding annoyed. ‘How many times have I told you I wanted you to marry me? I know I said it jokingly, but that was only because I was worried you were going to leave me if I asked you properly again. I love you, Hermione. Surely you must know that by now?’

‘You’ve been great,’ Hermione said quickly, eager to soothe Draco’s ruffled feathers. ‘Better than great, actually. But there was a little part of me that still couldn’t quite believe, after everything that happened between us when we were younger, that you really wanted to be with me, that I am the one you love. I know it’s stupid but I couldn’t help wondering whether you had engineered the affair just to get revenge on me and that if I said yes to you . . . if I committed my heart to you, whether you would just laugh in my face and remind me that my blood isn’t good enough for you.’  

Draco gripped Hermione’s hands tighter, an expression of anger crossing his face. ‘Even after everything we have done together? Every time I see you I tell you how much you mean to me. How can you doubt that? Anyway, I told you I’ve changed. I don’t believe in all that crap my father drummed into me for so many years. I thought you understood that, Hermione. I thought you trusted me.’

‘I do trust you, Draco,’ Hermione admitted. ‘I love you. To be honest, I was just plain scared.’

Draco’s hands relaxed a little, stopping the painful grip on Hermione’s. ‘What changed your mind?’

‘I talked to Harry,’ Hermione said. ‘I really couldn’t cope with it anymore, so I talked to him — told him everything, although of course he already knew about Ron.’

‘What did he say?’ Draco asked sourly. He could imagine what advice his arch-nemesis would have given Hermione, and he would bet money it wasn’t anything in his favour. He wondered what Potter’s reaction had been when Hermione had admitted to her affair with him. Shock, he was certain, but, surely already knowing that Ron was cheating on her, would he have been sympathetic at her actions or disgusted — and not just by her choice of lover?

‘He told me I needed to do whatever it took to be happy, regardless of the consequences,’ Hermione answered. Draco looked surprised. ‘Harry was very useful, actually. It was good to get everything off my chest, to not be bottling it all up inside any longer, but he also made me think seriously about what I wanted. He told me I had to choose between the two of you but that I was to forget about the children and the mistress and all that extraneous stuff and base it purely on who would make me happy — on who I loved most.’ She looked into Draco’s eyes once more. ‘I chose you.’

‘What did he say to that?’ Draco asked. ‘I bet he wasn’t impressed.’

‘I think he knew I would choose you,’ Hermione said honestly. ‘That was why he made me think about it in the way he did. He knew if he left me to consider all sides I would stay where I was, unfulfilled and slowly dying inside because I was too scared to take the chance to change things and be happy.’

Draco looked mollified. ‘Well I’m extremely glad he did.’ He leant forward to stroke Hermione’s cheek. ‘You deserve to be happy, love. Remember, I told you that at that Halloween party, when we went for that walk. _We_ deserve to be happy — and we make each other happy, happier than I ever imagined we would.’

And then Hermione was in Draco’s arms and he was kissing her again, his hands running through her hair as his tongue pressed into her mouth. He wanted so much to push her down on the sofa beneath him and make love to her, but remembering Hugo, still upstairs in his bedroom instead, he reluctantly released her, knowing she would feel uncomfortable.

‘There’s something else I have to tell you, too,’ Hermione admitted.

Draco looked at her in surprise. ‘Okay,’ he said slowly. What else could she still have to tell him? 

Hermione took a deep breath. ‘I’m pregnant, Draco.’

Draco gaped at her in astonishment. ‘What?’ he asked quietly.

‘I’m pregnant,’ Hermione repeated, her own voice just as quiet.

Draco’s face broke out into a massive grin. ‘That is wonderful news!’ He grabbed Hermione to him, giving her big hug as he kissed her once again. ‘But why didn’t you tell me before?’

Hermione pulled back so she could look at him. ‘I needed to know that you love me and wanted to be with me for me, not because of the baby. You understand that, don’t you?’

Draco gave a small laugh. ‘I know why, but I don’t understand why you needed the reassurance. Merlin’s beard, Hermione, I’m so glad you’re marrying me. Being with Weasley has made you so insecure and it really doesn’t suit you. Have you told him yet?’

As Hermione shook her head there was a noise from upstairs of Hugo opening his bedroom door. Hermione and Draco moved further apart from each other, then looked towards the door, waiting to see if he came downstairs to join them. But a few minutes later his door closed again.

‘He just went to the toilet,’ Hermione said, sounding relieved. ‘I haven’t told Ron yet but I will, just as soon as I can get him home long enough to talk.’

‘He’s not going to object, though, is he?’ Draco asked. ‘Not after what you told me about him.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘I don’t know what he will say, to be honest, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve made my choice. I want to be with you.’

‘I should go,’ Draco said, standing up. He was still grinning happily. ‘I need to go and break the good news to Astoria.’

‘What about Scorpius?’ Hermione asked anxiously. She too had stood up.

‘He’s already well aware there’s no love lost between Astoria and me,’ Draco replied. ‘If he’s anything like I was, he’ll be glad for it to be over. I honestly wish my parents had just admitted that they didn’t want to be together. I thought maybe they would do the sensible thing when they moved to France, but no — my father’s still chasing anything in a skirt and my mother’s steadfastly ignoring his behaviour just as long as he leaves her alone.  Hmmm . . . actually, perhaps they have the perfect marriage.’ 

‘That’s definitely _not_ the perfect marriage,’ Hermione assured him, thinking about how she had acted like Narcissa Malfoy.

‘Yes, but the difference with your marriage is that you wanted Ron to touch you,’ Draco told her gently. ‘For my mother it probably _is_ perfect because she doesn’t want my father going anywhere near her. And for him, he doesn’t have to tie himself down to one woman — he can play the field. It’s just a little embarrassing when they’re young enough to be my daughter.’

‘He likes them young, then?’ Hermione asked interestedly, her eyebrow quirking in amusement.

‘He likes them breathing,’ Draco retorted. ‘I think my father’s only qualification is whether they like to have sex. But of course with his money and looks he does tend to attract the younger women who like much older, rich and powerful men to look after them.’

‘And is he still as staunchly Pure-blood supremacist as he always was, or has he relaxed his standards a bit there, too?’

Draco laughed loudly. ‘My father’s a hypocrite, Hermione. That’s one of the things that made me realise all that Pure-blood supremacy stuff was total bollocks. Obviously, there was the fact that you were such a bloody brilliant witch, unlike some of the dullards in Slytherin, and you obviously hadn’t stolen the magic regardless of what Voldemort and his cronies were putting about; but my father’s proclivity for not worrying about the blood status of his sexual conquests was what really convinced me the whole thing was complete crap.

‘We did have a big argument when I discovered what he was up to. I mean, how could he have spent all those years drumming into me what scum Muggles and Muggle-borns were when he was quite happy to take them to bed, even back when I was at school?’ His voice dropped to a low growl. ‘I wish I had known what he was doing back then. If I had, I definitely would have asked you to the Yule Ball, just to piss him off if nothing else. Just think how different everything could have been then.’

And not just for us, Hermione thought wistfully. _Everything_ could have been completely different.

‘So what are your parents going to think?’ Hermione asked. ‘I assume they like Astoria?’

Draco shrugged. ‘I think they were just glad I got married,’ he said truthfully. ‘Mother was beginning to worry that I wasn’t ever going to settle down. I think Father had an idea about why I hadn’t and he was worried I would do something stupid.’

‘Why would he think that?’ Hermione asked, looking confused.

‘Because I was in love with you, Hermione,’ Draco said plainly. ‘I thought I had made that obvious enough by now. But by the time I cottoned on to the fact that everything I’d believed in was crap, you were already settled with Weasley. I spent a while drifting from girl to girl, but none of them had what I was looking for . . . none of them were you. I think my father was worried that I might try to break up your relationship. He was heartily relieved when I eventually got together with Astoria, and it seemed to make sense for us to get married. I don’t think my father likes her much; she is too much like my mother and she has no interest in sleeping with him. I think he prefers you.’

‘Well, I won’t sleep with him, either,’ Hermione said. She grinned at her comment.

‘You’d better not,’ Draco said. ‘Although it wouldn’t surprise me if he was interested. You really are beautiful.’

‘And you’re biased,’ Hermione laughed. ‘Your father doesn’t like me and he never has. I can’t imagine that will change, not even with his lowered standards.’

‘But the difference is that I don’t care anymore what my parents think,’ Draco said. ‘What about your parents? How will they take the news?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘Well, they like Ron well enough. He is pretty easy-going, after all. I’m not sure what they are going to think about you, though. Let’s just hope they don’t remember you from Flourish and Blotts — although if your father is at the wedding I’m sure they will.’

Draco looked confused. ‘Flourish and Blotts?’

Hermione nodded. ‘Second year, the day your father argued with Mr Weasley so he could plant Voldemort’s diary in Ginny’s cauldron. My parents were there talking to Mrs Weasley and they saw you arguing with us, and what your father did.’

Draco had the decency to look embarrassed. ‘Oh gods, I had forgotten about that. We didn’t make a very good impression, did we?’

‘No,’ Hermione said honestly. She looked amused. ‘But as it was over twenty-five years ago I think they’ll understand that you might have changed a bit since then. Anyway, they’ll just be happy that I am happy. That is all parents ever want, isn’t it, for their children to be happy?’

Draco nodded. ‘Well, that’s true enough. Even my parents wanted that and they weren’t the best role models ever.’ He held Hermione’s hand once more, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. ‘Right, I really do have to go. I’ll see you soon. Let me know how it goes with Ron. And if you need anything . . . anything at all . . . .’

Hermione smiled. ‘I know where to find you,’ she finished. ‘I’ll let you know when it’s sorted.’

Draco kissed Hermione briefly on the lips and then released her.

‘Make it soon,’ he whispered in her ear. 


	6. Chapter 6

After her conversation with Draco, Hermione found herself in a very strange mood. Elated by the affirmation of his love and buoyed by his obvious delight at the news of her pregnancy, part of her felt tingly and happy, a warm fuzzy glow surrounding her, but then there was a knot of tension balled up in her stomach making her jittery and nervous — caused, she knew, by the need to end things with Ron — and it was ruining her good feeling. Now she had finally made her decision she wanted it all to be over so she could be with Draco, but first she had to try to get Ron alone long enough to talk to him.

She had debated asking Harry to help but knew that was unfair. He would have enough to do in the aftermath and she didn’t want Ron thinking Harry had taken sides. While Ron had come home that night, it was too late for a talk; indeed, Hermione was already in bed and asleep by the time he got in. During breakfast wasn’t an option as Rose and Hugo were there, and whilst she had every intention of discussing it with them, too, she wanted Ron to aid her with explanations so they would see that the world wasn’t about to end and things weren’t going to get worse for them just because their parents were separating.

But to do that she needed to talk to Ron and calm him down first. As much as she might hope he would agree with her assessment of their relationship and what should happen next, she knew that realistically he was going to be angry when he heard about her relationship with Draco, regardless of his own feelings for his mistress. God only knew how he would react once he discovered Hermione was pregnant.

She had considered asking family to take the children for the evening, but apart from alerting them to the fact that something was up it would also give Ron the opportunity to go missing again, and that she didn’t need. In the end, she decided to collar him while he was at work and get an agreement from him to come home and talk to her. If he agreed, then she would do something about getting the children out of the way.

Harry very helpfully vacated the office when Hermione appeared, citing a need to pick up something for Ginny from the shops, understanding their need for privacy. Hermione sat on the end of Ron’s desk. He looked up from the folder he had been reading.

‘Oh, hullo, love,’ he said, rubbing his eyes. ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I was busy reading this case.’ He indicated the folder. ‘It’s a nasty one, this, causing us no end of problems. It’s certainly giving me a bloody headache.’

‘Are you going to be coming home this evening?’ Hermione asked.

‘This evening?’ Ron frowned, then thought for a moment. ‘I’m going to be working late—’

‘Don’t,’ Hermione said her voice colder than she had meant it to be. Ron looked at her in surprise. ‘We need to talk, Ronald.’ She broke off for a moment then said more gently, ‘You know we do.’

Ron stared appraisingly at Hermione for almost a minute, then gave a terse nod. ‘You’re right, we do. I will be home by six. What about Rose and Hugo?’ Before Hermione had a chance to reply he added, ‘I’ll have a word with Harry and see if they can stay with his lot. I think we need to be alone for this, don’t we?’

For a moment the old surge of desire that she had felt for Ron for so many years swept through Hermione, making her feel a little maudlin about what was going to happen between them. She felt Ron squeeze her hand, and looking at him she was sure that he, too, looked the way she felt. Was he regretting the way things had gone between them as well?

Hermione released his hand and stood up. ‘I’ll see you later, then,’ she said. ‘Don’t work too hard.’

Ron grimaced as he looked at the folder on his desk. ‘Fat chance, with this bloody thing on-going. I’ll see you at six o’ clock.’   

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Ron arrived home he told Rose and Hugo they were going to Harry’s for the night. Hugo was pleased to be spending time with his cousins as he always enjoyed their company, but Rose wasn’t overly keen until she learned Teddy was going to be there. While Hermione prepared the dinner, Ron got them packed and ready to go and then Flooed with them, returning by the time the meal was ready.

‘It’s been a while since we’ve done this,’ Ron said as they sat down together at the table. He poured Hermione a glass of wine, then followed suit with his own glass. ‘The food looks great, love.’

‘Too long,’ Hermione said a little sadly. She picked up her glass and took a small sip of her wine as Ron started eating.

She wasn’t sure how he could do that when he must have known what the conversation would be about, but then Ron had always had the capacity to eat in just about any given situation. She pushed her own food around the plate, her stomach roiling too much to really consider eating, but it was clear that no conversation was going to take place until the meal was over, so eventually she half-heartedly attempted to eat something.

As the meal went on, Hermione thought how easy it was to see, when it was just the two of them with nothing from outside to impact on them, just why she had been in love with Ron for so long and why she had tried so hard to make the marriage work, against all the odds. But then she remembered Ron’s mistress and Harry’s words to her that she should do whatever made her happy, and looking at her husband now she knew for sure he wasn’t going to be the one to do that. Even if he gave up his mistress and returned to being the loving husband he had been at the beginning of their marriage, Ron still didn’t have what she needed. He never had done, really, and after twenty years it was time to finally admit that and let go.

As Ron pushed his plate away with a satisfied sigh, he took a large gulp of his wine to wash down the final mouthful. Hermione took this as a cue to stand and pick up the plates to clear the table, feeling her nerves rising.

Ron picked up his glass and the wine bottle. ‘We’ll go into the lounge, shall we? It’s more comfortable for a chat there.’

Hermione put the plates into the sink, then followed along behind, picking up her still almost full glass as she went. Her hands were clammy and her heart was pounding. Even now, even knowing that she was doing the right thing, she still didn’t want to confront Ron about his adultery or admit to her own. She didn’t want to hear him say the words she had dreaded hearing for so long.

‘I know I’ve been a bit off with you for the last few weeks,’ Ron said, sounding apologetic, as Hermione entered the room and sat in the other empty armchair. They both ignored the sofa. ‘I am sorry about that, love. I’ve been a bit stressed with work and stuff.’

Hermione was thrown off balance by his comment. For a moment she imagined Ron attempting to deny that anything was going on. But surely things had gone too far now for that to happen. In the early days, maybe, but this far down the line . . . .

‘I can understand why you’re annoyed with me,’ Ron continued, cutting through her thoughts, ‘especially with Hugo’s school thing the other week. It must have seemed like I didn’t care about our son or his achievements.’

Hermione found herself nodding. Of course that was what she had been thinking. But she couldn’t let Ron sidetrack her or stop the conversation they needed to have from taking place just because he was being placating.

‘I will admit I was annoyed that you were more worried about missing an evening with your mistress than how your son was doing at school,’ she said her voice quiet but steely. She saw Ron flinch a little when she mentioned his mistress and a frown crossed his face. ‘But you did at least make the effort to get there for his presentation, which redeemed you a little.’

‘Hermione, I can explain.’

‘About your mistress? Or are you going to tell me that you just work late? Don’t bother with that old lie, Ronald. I know what you’ve been doing with your evenings and it definitely hasn’t included working.’ 

Ron’s face turned red at Hermione’s words and he looked guiltily at her.

‘I _was_ working late,’ he said defensively, ‘to begin with. But then as things between you and me got . . . well . . . you know.’ He broke off again, looking desperately at Hermione. ‘I started going out for a drink after work with a few of the guys from the office. You never really said anything about it so I thought you weren’t bothered.’

‘And the mistress?’ Hermione asked archly. ‘When did she come onto the scene? Or was she part of your after-work drinks club?’

‘I met Maia during a case. She was a witness and I had to interview her a few times. By then you and I weren’t really getting on that well anymore and she was . . . well . . . she made it clear she was interested. I didn’t mean for anything to happen, ‘Mione, I swear. But she turned up at the pub one night and I was a bit drunk and things got a little out of hand.’ Ron looked pained. ‘I do love you, ‘Mione, you must know I do. I always have done, but you have to admit we weren’t getting on great.’ He looked squarely at Hermione. ‘I’m so sorry, love.’

Hermione broke the eye contact, pain stabbing her heart at Ron’s words. How could this be hurting so much when she already knew much of what he was telling her? After taking a moment to compose herself she looked back at him.

‘Do you love her?’

Ron looked stumped at the question. It obviously hadn’t been what he had been expecting her to say.

_He probably thought I would tell him to stop and he was going to blithely agree, without any intention of keeping his promise_ , Hermione thought bitterly.

She gave a small sigh. ‘Look Ronald, it’s not a difficult question to answer. Do you love her, yes or no? I mean, you obviously don’t love me.’ Hermione tried to keep her voice light and calm but she wasn’t sure she succeeded. At least she hadn’t lost it completely, as she would have done at one time.

‘Of course I love you — I just told you I did, didn’t I?’ Ron said quickly. He was still bright red, even his ears were crimson. ‘Look, I know what I did was wrong, but—’

Hermione shook her head. ‘Not what you did Ronald — what you _are_ doing. I know you are still seeing her. I know that’s where you go every night rather than being here at home with me and your children. And I know that while you love me, you’re not _in_ love with me — a terrible old cliché, but in this case true. Let’s face it, we’re back to being like we were at school. You love me but you don’t want to be with me. That’s about the size of it, isn’t it?’

‘It’s not that easy,’ Ron said miserably. ‘You’re right, I do love you, but not in the way I used to. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you, don’t want to be part of the family. It’s just hard.’

‘How hard can it be to come home to us in the evening?’ Hermione asked. ‘She’s not forcing you to spend all your time with her, is she? Face it, Ron, you see her because you would rather be with her than with me. That is all there is to it.’

‘I do love you, Hermione,’ Ron said again. He drained the rest of his wine and picked up the bottle from the table to refill his glass.

‘I know that, Ron,’ Hermione said with a small sigh. ‘But what about her — are you in love with her?’ Ron looked guilty but didn’t say anything. ‘Please, Ronald, this is important.’ Hermione said exasperatedly.

‘What do you want me to say?’ Ron asked sounding miserable.

‘I want you to tell me the truth,’ Hermione pleaded. She took a deep breath. Ron obviously didn’t want to admit to his feelings for Maia, possibly for fear of upsetting her but more likely through cowardice. She had to force the issue, and she had to tell him about Draco and the baby. ‘Please tell me you love her enough to continue the relationship once our divorce comes through.’

Ron’s mouth gaped with astonishment. ‘Divorce? What divorce? What are you talking about, Hermione? We are not getting divorced . . . are we?’

Hermione sighed. ‘This thing with . . . _Maia_ , is that her name? . . . has been going on for a couple of years now. At first I didn’t want to know, didn’t want to look too closely at what you did after work in case I discovered something was going on. But then your sister started inviting us out in the evening with her and Harry and it was obvious you weren’t working late, and so then I knew for sure. I didn’t say anything, hopeful that it was just a phase since I knew things hadn’t been too good between us and it might have been that which had led you astray. I was hoping you would see sense, that after a short fling you would realise you loved me after all and end the affair.

‘But it didn’t happen. By the end of last year I finally understood that you didn’t love me any longer, not in the way I wanted you to, the way I _need_ you to, and that we were back to just being the friends we were at school. I tried everything I could to get you to love me again, Ronald — suggesting romantic walks, time on our own away from the family and Harry — but you weren’t interested. Not in me, at least.’

‘I am so sorry I made you unhappy, Hermione,’ Ron said. ‘I never meant for that to happen. We just sort of drifted apart and once I was seeing Maia our relationship just didn’t seem that important. We were ticking along and you never seemed interested in what I was doing, you just let me get on with it.’

‘Because I didn’t want to lose you,’ Hermione admitted quietly. ‘I was so worried you would leave us if I confronted you about it, so I said nothing.’

‘Then why are you talking about a divorce?’ Ron asked in confusion. ‘You don’t want me to leave and I don’t intend to.’

‘Things have changed,’ Hermione said simply. She twisted her wine glass in her hands for a moment. ‘When I realised you were seriously considering not going to Hugo’s open evening because you didn’t want to miss a night with your mistress, I finally understood how intense things were between you.’

‘That was only because we had already arranged to go—’ Ron began, his voice wheedling.

‘I don’t care why you were doing it,’ Hermione cut in, her anger rising. She had to keep it in check. She took a deep breath, then continued. ‘When I discovered you were happy to ruin your son’s evening, to upset his already fragile ego all because you preferred to have a shag with your mistress, that was when I knew this had to end.’

‘I went to the open evening,’ Ron said sullenly, upset at Hermione’s rebuke. ‘We were supposed to be going out somewhere but I cancelled it and went with you instead.’

‘Yes, and very ungraciously, too,’ Hermione pointed out. ‘You had a face like a smacked arse the whole time we were there, you treated me as if I had committed some sort of heinous crime, and then you disappeared for over a week to make me pay for it. Why should I put up with that sort of behaviour from you, Ron, and why should the children?’

Ron hung his head with shame but didn’t say anything.

‘If I asked you to stop seeing Maia, would you?’ Hermione asked quietly. Ron still didn’t say anything nor did he raise his head. ‘It’s all right, Ronald. I know you don’t want to give her up. I know you love her.’

Ron finally raised his head. He looked as if he was about to cry.

‘Hermione—’ he said, but couldn’t say anything further.

‘That’s not the only reason I want a divorce,’ Hermione admitted. ‘I’ve been unhappy for a long time. As you said, we weren’t getting on all that well for a few years before you started your affair, and your cheating didn’t make things any better, especially as far as I was concerned. As I told you, I tried to get you interested in me again but when it became clear your interests lay elsewhere and you weren’t going to return to me I did the one thing I could think of to make me happy.’

Ron looked keenly at Hermione. ‘And what was that?’ he asked.

Hermione gave a small shrug, ‘I started having an affair, too.’ Ron looked shocked at her revelation. ‘But it really _was_ because I knew it was hopeless between you and me. If you had ended your relationship I would have done the same.’

‘You’ve been having . . . who with?’

‘Draco,’ Hermione said, her voice quieter now.

‘Malfoy!’ Ron looked and sounded furious. ‘That bloody snake-in-the-grass. Popping up everywhere and pretending to be all friendly all of a sudden, when really all he wanted to do was get my wife into bed. I knew the bloody bastard hadn’t changed. He’s just as much of a sneaky Slytherin as he ever was.’

‘It wasn’t quite like that,’ Hermione replied crossly. ‘Anyway, I don’t think you are in any position to get upset about it. I mean, it wasn’t as if you were interested. When was the last time we had sex?’

‘You’re my wife, Hermione.’

‘Nice of you to remember that finally, Ronald, but it’s a bit late now. If you had remembered you were married before you jumped into bed with Maia I never would have felt the need to find affection elsewhere, would I?’

‘So you want a divorce so you can be with him, do you?’ Ron asked nastily. ‘What makes you think he isn’t just using you? He’s married, too, or had you forgotten that?’

‘Of course I haven’t. I know he is married. He was just as unhappy in his relationship as I was in mine.’

Ron snorted, shaking his head as if incredulous. ‘He would say that. You are so gullible sometimes, Hermione, you’ll believe anything. He was just trying to get into your knickers . . . and it worked, didn’t it?’

‘That’s what you think, is it?’ Hermione asked angrily.

‘Yes, of course, it’s obvious. I bet he’s having a right laugh with his old Slytherin mates about splitting you and me up. It’ll be his greatest triumph. Better than anything he came up with at school.’

‘ _You_ were the one who split you and me up,’ Hermione bit back. ‘You had already done that when Draco and I got together. He helped to make me feel my life was worth living again. He made me understand that everything wasn’t hopeless.’ She glared at Ron, who looked upset at her words. ‘And for your information, Draco is already divorcing Astoria. He wants to be with me — and I want to be with him!’

‘You want to be with him,’ Ron repeated. ‘You want to leave me and marry that . . . that git instead?’

Hermione nodded. ‘Yes, because just as you don’t love me anymore, I don’t love you, either. We obviously weren’t any good as a couple, but we are good as friends. We have always been good at that, Ron. And you have Maia. It is not as if I am just walking out on you. You went first, remember?’

‘What about the children?’ Ron asked, suddenly belligerent again. ‘You were the one all upset because I was neglecting Hugo’s needs and yet suddenly you’re talking about catastrophically ruining their lives with your selfishness.’

‘No, I’m not,’ Hermione said. She was trying to calm down but was finding it hard with Ron being so bullish. ‘Hugo is starting at Hogwarts next month, so both of them will be at school for most of the year. I’m sure you weren’t intending to be at home then anyway, were you? Both our children are old enough to understand that you and I aren’t in love, and if you think they haven’t noticed that you’re up to something then you really are stupid. Rosie might not have twigged, as she’s been in school most of the time, thank Merlin, but Hugo sure as hell knows something’s not right. Anyway, I’m trying to make this an amicable split between us so there’s no need for their lives to be severely disrupted.’

‘Perhaps I don’t want it to be amicable,’ Ron said argumentatively.

Hermione sighed loudly. ‘Well, that’s entirely up to you, Ronald. But before you get on your high horse about this I would like to refer you back to the fact that it was you who cheated in the first place. And it’s unfair of you to expect me just to put up with it. Why should I be unhappy and alone for the rest of my life just because you’re too selfish to make a decision?’

‘You think I am being selfish,’ Ron said. ‘I am not the one suggesting breaking up our family and upsetting our children. You are the one doing that and all because of your lust for Malfoy.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘We don’t love each other, Ronald — and we both love other people. What is the point of dragging it out any longer? The only reason I could see for you being upset about this is if you don’t love Maia. In which case, why have you stayed with her for so long?’

Ron scowled. ‘Of course I love her. But we are talking about you and I having decades together here, Hermione. It’s a lot to throw away without thinking about it.’

‘Just because you can’t think past the end of your cock doesn’t mean I haven’t. I have done nothing but think about it for almost eighteen months,’ Hermione said acidly, ‘ever since I realised that what you were doing wasn’t just having a quick fling but that you were serious about her. If I had seriously thought there was any chance of you coming back to me I wouldn’t have turned to Draco. But I knew that wasn’t the case, and he gave me the chance to be happy.

‘As I said, are you willing to stop seeing Maia? That’s what I need from you, Ronald — in order for us to stay married. I need all or nothing from you. I’m not going to hang on in limbo for the next god knows how many years, feeling unhappy and unloved, gradually becoming more and more depressed with each passing year without any affection from you, wondering all the while if you will decide to leave me. Can you give me that? I honestly don’t think you can. And if you can’t, then surely you must be able to see it’s time to move on.’

‘I just can’t believe you want to give up everything we’ve got for Malfoy,’ Ron said, ignoring her question about Maia once again. ‘After everything we went through with him, after the way he treated you for all those years, how can you even consider it?’

‘Believe it or not, he has changed over the last twenty years, Ron, just as we all have. He has grown up and knows that his Pure-blood view when he was younger was completely wrong, and he feels remorse for how he acted back then. He’s absolutely nothing like the boy we knew at school. And you know what? He really does love me and he makes me feel good. I enjoy being with him in the same way I imagine you enjoy being with Maia. I know there’s history there, but it really is ancient now and I need you to accept that. I know you don’t like him — although you should give him a chance — but I do. He can make me happy, Ron. We can both be happy for the first time in a long time.’

Ron scowled but didn’t say anything for several minutes. Hermione knew he was thinking about what she had said. Although he still hadn’t confirmed it, she knew he wasn’t going to leave Maia, and with her ultimatum to him he would have no choice but to accept the inevitable, surely?

‘Perhaps we should wait,’ Ron said.

‘Wait for what?’ Hermione asked, her frustration rising again. ‘I’m not prepared to continue our marriage in the way it is and I know you are not going to stop seeing Maia, so what is there to wait for?’

‘I just don’t trust Malfoy,’ Ron muttered unhappily.

‘I can assure you there is absolutely nothing to worry about with him,’ Hermione said fervently. ‘And I am going to marry him. I suggest you do the same with Maia. We can still be friends — we _are_ still friends. That is never going to change. We’re just not in love any longer. It happens, Ron. Let’s just accept it and move on.’

‘But what if he changes his mind?’ Ron asked, apparently still determined to see the worst in Draco.

Hermione sighed. ‘To be honest, it doesn’t really matter. You’re not going to give up Maia and I can’t stay married to you unless you do. So even if Draco were to change his mind, we are still going to end up divorced.’ She looked at Ron intently for a moment. ‘But I know he’s not going to change his mind.’

‘I don’t know how you can be so sure of that,’ Ron muttered.

‘Because I know him,’ Hermione said passionately. ‘I have got to know him very well and I know how he feels about me, how he’s felt about me for a long time, actually.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘And because I’m pregnant.’ She saw Ron start to erupt, and before he could say anything she added, ‘It was honestly a complete accident. I have no idea how it happened, but I am glad it did because it finally galvanised me into doing something. It made me realise there was more to life than sitting around the house getting upset because you hadn’t come home again. It made me  understand that I could have a happy and fulfilling life with someone who loves me and wants to be with me rather than someone who stays out of guilt or indecision.’

‘So that’s why you want to get a divorce,’ Ron said bitterly, ‘because you’re pregnant.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘No, I’ve told you why I want to get a divorce. The pregnancy has nothing to do with that. It’s incidental. But it does serve to highlight just how ridiculous you and I staying together is, when we both love other people.’

‘I can’t stop you, can I?’ Ron said. He paused for a moment then added, ‘What do you think Rose and Hugo are going to say when they find out you’re having a baby? How do you think they will feel?’

‘I’m hoping they’ll be happy for us,’ Hermione said honestly. ‘There’s absolutely no reason why our children should have a problem with this. When they’re not at school they can stay with me or you, whichever they want. They can split their time if they want. And, of course, they will be staying with Harry and Ginny and at the Burrow — they already spend more than enough time there as it is. The only difference will be that we won’t be living together — and if you think about it seriously, we haven’t been doing that for a long time anyway, not really. We’ll all be happier in the long run. And you and I can go back to being the friends we always should have been.’

Without saying another word Ron stood up and left the room. Hermione watched him go, not wanting to stop him but wondering where he was going. Was he going to leave without agreeing? Or did his leaving signal his agreement? Their whole bloody relationship had been full of miscommunications like this one, right from their first days at school. It was a wonder they had ever managed to get together at all.

Well, she wasn’t going to follow him; there was no point. If he wanted to sulk about it, she would let him and hope that eventually he would calm down enough to talk to her rationally. She breathed deeply, trying to relax herself. The knot in her stomach had shrunk, but wasn’t completely gone. That wouldn’t happen until she was sure Ron was in agreement with her and they had explained things to the kids.

About ten minutes later Ron returned with another bottle of wine and a glass of pumpkin juice. He handed the juice to Hermione before filling his glass with wine.

‘I thought you might want this,’ he said gruffly. ‘You shouldn’t be drinking alcohol in your condition.’ He sat down and took a large mouthful of his wine. ‘How far along are you, anyway?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, a couple of months, maybe. I found out the day of Hugo’s open evening.’

Ron nodded as he took another drink. ‘I do love Maia,’ he admitted, finally. He breathed deeply, rubbing at his eyes, then looked intently at his wife. ‘And you are right, Hermione. I wouldn’t stop seeing her if we stayed together. But I am just having a huge problem with this whole Malfoy thing.’

‘Perhaps if you get to know Draco better you will see how much he has changed,’ Hermione suggested. ‘I know it is going to be hard for you at first, but I am sure you can be friends eventually.’

‘And Maia? Will you meet her?’

‘Of course I will. She is going to be my best friend’s wife. I need to know she’s suitable.’ Hermione gave a small smile, then she asked, ‘Any chance of a hug? I really need one.’

Putting down his glass, Ron stood up again. Hermione followed suit. Crossing the room to her chair, Ron wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. Hermione slid her arms around him in return.

‘I don’t ever want to lose you as my friend, Ron,’ she whispered.

‘You won’t,’ Ron said, his voice thick with emotion. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘Welcome to your new home, Hermione,’ Draco said happily. He raised his arm to indicate the imposing yet beautiful structure of Malfoy Manor that stood in front of them. ‘This belongs to you now, or at least it will once we’re married.’

Hermione laughed. ‘I think your father would have a heart attack if he heard you say that, Draco. Imagine, the grand old Pure-blood estate of Malfoy Manor in the ownership of a filthy little Mudblood.’

Draco excitedly pulled Hermione towards the front door of the house. ‘Well he’d better get used to it. Anyway, at least we’re going to be happy here — which is more than I can say for most of my family.’

He opened the front door and allowed Hermione to enter in front of him, smiling as he watched her turning to look around the large entrance hall.

‘What are you looking at? You have been here before, you know.’

‘I know that, but it’s different now,’ Hermione said. ‘I wasn’t going to live here before.’

Draco wrapped his arms around her waist, grinning salaciously. ‘There will be plenty of time for looking around later. ‘I was thinking of looking at something far more interesting for the time being . . . like the bed.’ He led her towards the stairs.

‘Am I going to be in Astoria’s rooms, or have I been housed elsewhere?’ Hermione asked.

Draco stopped and looked at her in confusion.

‘Astoria’s rooms? Why on earth would I put you in there?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘I know you old Pure-blood types like your space. I assumed we would be sleeping in separate rooms as you did with Astoria.’

Draco chuckled. ‘Not a chance! Astoria and I had separate bedrooms because we didn’t get on. You and I will be sharing a bed, my love, don’t you worry about that. I was assuming we would use my current room. However, if you would prefer we can choose a different bedroom.’

Hermione smiled. ‘Your current bedroom will be fine. I already know it well enough and I don’t really see any point in moving. And you know I’ve always thought it beautifully decorated.’

‘Then let me officially introduce you to _our_ bedroom,’ Draco said with a wink as he ushered Hermione through the door. ‘Of course, the really great thing about you sharing this wing with me is that we can put Rosie and Hugo in the other wing with Scorpius and we won’t have them interrupting us at a potentially sensitive moment.’

Hermione looked worried. ‘But what if they need us?’

Draco laughed. ‘I’m not talking about locking them away indefinitely or barring all access, love, just giving them and us a little privacy. Anyway, the house-elves will always look after them.’

‘Oh, yes, the house-elves,’ Hermione said a little unhappily.

Draco pulled Hermione onto the bed and sat down beside her as he took her hands.

‘Oh, Merlin,’ he sighed. ‘I’d forgotten about your thing with house-elves. You really have to promise me you’re not going to upset them, Hermione. This place is far too big to run without their help, believe me on that.’

Hermione looked unhappy but she nodded. ‘Are they at least free?’ she asked, already sure she knew the answer, otherwise Draco wouldn’t have said anything.

‘No, they’re not, and don’t you go around trying to give them clothes, either. Neither they or I will thank you for it.’

‘But you should have freed them,’ Hermione said. ‘I’ve spent years doing so much work in that area, making the workplace better for them, and now I’m going to be living somewhere with indentured house-elves. How will that look? People will think I’m a hypocrite and am condoning their abuse.’

Draco sighed again. ‘I know you did, love, and I honestly believe you did a good thing in general, but our house-elves come from a very old line that have always served the Malfoys and they don’t know anything else.’

‘That doesn’t give you the right to keep them as slaves,’ Hermione said unhappily. ‘I know plenty of house-elves who gained freedom from old Pure-blood families.’

‘Because they wanted to,’ Draco pointed out. ‘The house-elves here don’t. Believe me, I did ask them when your new decree came out. It really upset some of them, the idea of not being tied to the family. They thought I was trying to get rid of them. It took me ages to calm them down enough to explain that I wasn’t sending them away.’

‘Perhaps you just didn’t explain it to them properly,’ Hermione said.

Draco snorted. ‘I told them all that if they wanted to be free I would be happy to employ them on wages. From the reaction I got you would have thought I had offered to boil them in oil.’ He looked at Hermione intently. ‘I treat them well, Hermione, far better than my father did, but they don’t want freedom and I don’t want you forcing them into it.’

Hermione looked at him reproachfully. Draco stood up, pulling her off the bed.

‘Come on,’ he grumbled. ‘You’re obviously not going to be happy about this until I take you to meet them and you can see for yourself that they are perfectly happy.’

Hermione followed Draco as he walked back out of the door and down the stairs, looking around her in interest as they passed through areas of the house she had never visited before. Particularly of pleasure was the discovery of a large library, which Draco told her contained many rare volumes he was sure she would be interested in studying.

Eventually, they arrived at the kitchen, seemingly the main congregating area for the house-elves. As they entered the room the elves stopped whatever work they were engaged in and looked happily at Draco and interestedly at Hermione. She watched as an old elf, possibly of a similar age to Kreacher, walked forward and bowed its head to the two of them.

‘This is Moki,’ Draco said, indicating the elf. ‘He’s the oldest of the house-elves and he knows absolutely everything that goes on around here. If you ever need anything, just ask and Moki will help you.’ He smiled at all the house-elves. ‘This is Hermione, my fiancée. She wanted to meet you all.’

‘Hullo there,’ Hermione said, suddenly feeling a little awkward. All the elves were focussing on her keenly and it was somewhat overwhelming. ‘I’m really pleased to meet you all.’ The elves made various sounds of welcome. ‘I understand from Draco that none of you wanted to take freedom when it was offered, but if any of you change your mind, please let us know. We are more than happy to help you — I want to help you in any way I can, even if it’s just with giving you days off, holidays or new clothes.’

Hermione’s speech caused a great deal of distress amongst the assembled elves and there was lots of unhappy muttering and wailing. Putting his hand on Hermione’s arm to stop her from speaking any further, Draco put his other hand up to stop the worried elves.

‘Hermione isn’t suggesting you take freedom,’ he said gently but seriously. ‘She understands that you want to stay here with us, and we’re both happy for you to do that. But Hermione cares and worries about your welfare. What she’s suggesting isn’t setting you free or turning you away from Malfoy Manor, it’s just a new idea for a fairer way of working. We’re not going to force any of you to do anything you don’t want to do, but at least take some time to consider the options Hermione is suggesting, as they could work for all of us.’

There was still some uncomfortable murmuring, but they had at least stopped looking at Hermione with something akin to hatred.

Moki stepped forward again. Looking serious, he said, ‘Thank you for your kind offer, Mistress, but we are quite happy with how things are and have no wish to change them.’

Hermione realised she wasn’t going to win this battle, so she backed down. ‘At least I know you’re happy,’ she said smiling at them. ‘But if you have any concerns about anything, please know that you can always talk to us about it and we will do what we can to help.’ She was pleased to see Draco nodding in agreement.

‘Let’s go,’ Draco told her quietly. Hermione nodded. ‘So, can we go back to the bedroom now?’ he added hopefully.

‘I’d really like a look at the library,’ Hermione said, sounding a little apologetic. ‘Would you mind if we went there first?’

Draco let out a breath, then laughed. ‘I should have known you’d lose interest in anything else once you’d seen the library.’ He glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Moki, can we have tea in the library in twenty minutes, please?’

He offered his arm to Hermione, looking resigned. ‘Come on, then, let’s go and look at all those rare books.’


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. The hours spent looking after a crotchety baby had definitely taken their toll on her looks. She peered at the dark circles from the many sleepless nights Clio had given her and sighed again. It was typical that on the one day she could have done with looking okay she was in fact a complete mess, she thought.

Her image in the mirror stared piggily back at her from sore and somewhat bloodshot eyes. And she didn’t even want to think about her hair. It had exploded with the dampness the early morning rain had brought. It was forecast to clear and turn into brilliant sunshine by the time the ceremony took place, but that didn’t help her; the damage to her over-bountiful bonce was already done. And as if that weren’t enough, she was still a bit too wobbly and lumpy for her liking. The weight she had gained during the pregnancy hadn’t yet gone completely and was really beginning to depress her. It didn’t matter how many times Draco told her he thought she looked wonderful, she knew she didn’t.

Especially compared to the perfect Maia. 

She was the reason Hermione was having a minor breakdown in her bedroom — the woman who would, three hours from now, be the brand-new wife of Hermione’s best friend.

As Hermione had promised, once the air had cleared a bit and her move to Malfoy Manor had been completed, she had met Ron’s lover and understood instantly why he had fallen for her. Tall, willowy and coffee-skinned, her complexion clear and freckle-free, with long, perfectly coiffured ebony hair that shone like satin, Maia literally oozed sex appeal.

For a moment Hermione thought bitterly about how this woman had stolen her husband, how this siren had lured him away, and she had been powerless to put up a fight against the beautiful woman. But then she remembered how things had been between her and Ron and knew it wasn’t Maia’s fault they had split up. Anyway, she was in love with Draco and definitely wouldn’t swap him for Ron, whatever the circumstances, so she had no reason to bear a grudge — even if the woman was too beautiful for her own good.

But then she talked to Maia and discovered that not only was she beautiful, she was nice, too. What had begun as a difficult and quite stilted discussion on all sides — Ron and Draco were having their own problems coming to terms with each other as well — had, with Maia’s easy-going and open attitude, soon turned into a fun evening with the two girls laughing and joking about all manner of things. Once the jesting had turned on their scowling other halves, the women’s friendship was pretty much cemented.

What had really sealed the deal for Hermione, though, was when she watched the way that Maia and Ron interacted with each other. It was clear from the way each talked, touched and generally acted with the other that they were totally in love. Maia clearly adored Ron in a way Hermione never had, not even during the peak of her love for him, and Ron, boosted by that adoration, had become something far better than he had ever been with her. Hermione found her heart melting at the sight of them and knew without a shadow of a doubt that Ron would be as happy with Maia as Harry was with Ginny . . . and as she was with Draco.

The men, forced to band together when their women turned on them, had discovered at first a grudging acceptance of each other, followed as the months passed by a friendship that, whilst it was never going to be as close as that shared by Harry and Ron, was a massive improvement on the enmity that had previously coloured their lives.

Hermione pulled the concealer from her makeup bag and dabbed it around her eyes in an attempt to hide the tiredness. She added a little powder and looked critically at herself. It wasn’t great, but it would have to do. Once her makeup was completed she turned to sorting out her hair. Her initial intent to leave it free-flowing was definitely not a plan now. The last time she had seen it this bad was after her Potions N.E.W.T. exam when it had exploded like a huge cumulonimbus cloud around her head from the hours over a steaming cauldron. There was nothing for it; she was going to have to have to use that good old standby, Sleakeasy’s hair tonic.

Ten minutes and a lot of frantic wand waving later, Hermione looked in the mirror, happier now with what she saw. Another ten minutes saw her dressed in a beautiful long turquoise robe with silver and diamante high heels and silver shawl to go with the matching accessories she wore. She had another look in the mirror as she turned this way and that, checking that she looked okay.

‘You look stunning, love.’ Draco entered the room and moved to stand behind Hermione, wrapping his arms around her as he too looked into the mirror. ‘You’re going to be the most beautiful woman there.’

Hermione laughed. ‘Hardly. I think Maia is going to be even more stunning today than she always is.’

Draco squeezed her, kissing her neck. ‘I still think you’ll be more beautiful than her,’ he whispered seductively.

‘You are rather heavily biased,’ Hermione pointed out. ‘The bride is always going to be the most beautiful person at a wedding. But thank you for the compliment.’

Draco shrugged. ‘I can see that Maia is beautiful, but she’s not my type at all. I like someone with a bit more brain.’

‘She’s not stupid,’ Hermione said.

‘I know that but she’s not as brainy as you, is she? I can’t imagine her and Ron holding long conversations about Potions or that she tackles Arithmancy problems in her spare time.’

Hermione smiled. ‘Probably not, but I bet they talk about Quidditch a lot. She’s almost as much of a fanatic about the game as you three are — except that she supports a decent team.’

Draco frowned at Hermione’s criticism of his favourite team, the Chudley Cannons, who he had been astonished to discover were Ron and Harry’s favourite team, too. This shared passion had gone a long way to aiding in the build-up of their friendship, and the three of them had gone to several matches together.   

‘There are other things in life than Quidditch,’ Draco said. He squeezed her again.

‘ _ _Really?__ ’ Hermione’s eyebrows rose in playful astonishment as she turned in his arms. ‘It’s funny how that opinion changes during the season. To hear you, Harry and Ron talking then, you would believe that __nothing__ in the world could ever be as important as Quidditch!’ She gave him a brief kiss on the lips as he grinned ruefully, then pulled back and adjusted his tie.

‘Is everyone else ready to go?’ Hermione asked as she brushed a stray hair from his jacket. ‘It’s been like a madhouse here this morning.’

‘They’ll be ready when we are,’ Draco said soothingly. ‘Rosie has Clio — she’s been practising her Transfiguration skills on her dress — and Scorpius is making sure Hugo gets dressed properly.’

Hermione looked wary and her voice was a little tense as she asked, ‘Oh, god, she isn’t doing anything major, is she? I don’t want to have to try and dig out another dress at this stage — the one she had was perfect. What is she doing to it?’

Draco shrugged. ‘It’s fine. I think she’s changing the colours of the ribbons and those little roses on it so they match what she’s wearing. She’s already told me that she’ll hold Clio during the service and take her away and calm her down if she starts to cry so we can enjoy the wedding without worrying.’

‘But she’ll be too busy as a bridesmaid to do that,’ Hermione pointed out. ‘She’ll have to sit with the wedding party.’

Draco shook his head. ‘It’s not that formal, not like in a church or a registry office. She only has to follow Maia down the aisle. Once they’re up there she joins us in the cheap seats. She can easily look after Clio — and she wants to do it so I think we should let her.’ He smiled. ‘I’m very proud of the way she’s acted over all of this, you know.’

‘Yes, I have to admit I thought she might be the problem one,’ Hermione mused. ‘But she’s a sensible girl.’ She sighed. ‘I just wish Hugo would accept it the way she has.’

‘Boys are different,’ Draco said with a shrug. ‘Rose had the wedding to look forward to . . . and the baby, but Hugo’s at that age where babies are a pain and he’s being forced to dress in stupid clothes for the wedding. He doesn’t want to go, and that’s not helped by him being a moody teenager anyway. We just have to give him a bit of time. He’ll get there in the end.’

Hermione sighed again. ‘I know you’re right, but I just wish he could be a little more pleasant. He wouldn’t even talk to Ron about it. And surely he can’t keep staying with friends during the holidays to avoid having to visit either of us?’

‘You spent most of your school holidays at the Burrow, didn’t you?’ Draco pointed out. He had released Hermione now and moved towards the mirror, opening the wardrobe door and peering inside. He pulled out a pair of highly polished black shoes, looked at them critically for a second, then sat down on the bed and began to put them on.

‘Yes, but that’s different. I wasn’t there because I was trying to avoid my parents.’

‘It’s exactly the same. Hugo and his friends want to spend their holidays together just as we used to spend them with our friends. He’s still going to the Burrow, as well. No one has time for their parents at thirteen, and you definitely don’t want to be stuck at home with them all the time because they’re boring old farts. Look on the bright side: at least he’s not causing mayhem and mischief like Albus and Severus, and he’ll grow out of it eventually. We all did.’

‘I’ve tried to get Ron to talk to him,’ Hermione said, ‘but he’s had no luck, either.’

Draco had finished putting on his shoes and he stood up and moved towards Hermione, pulling her into another hug. ‘I really don’t think there’s anything to talk to him about. It’s just normal stuff that he’ll grow out of eventually. Honestly, nothing worth getting stressed out over, especially today.’ He stroked Hermione’s face and smirked. ‘I bet once the party gets going he’ll be up dancing with the rest of them, just you wait.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Hermione conceded, and she gave him a quick peck on the lips before pulling away to find her handbag. ‘Can you go and round them up, please? I’ll be down in a moment, I just want to check I’ve got everything.’

Still smiling, Draco left her checking her handbag.

Hermione sat on the bed as she rummaged through her bag, ensuring that she had everything she would need: handkerchiefs, money, makeup and compact mirror, plus the various other bits of crap that ended up in there with children, and especially a baby, to look after. She knew the bag with Clio’s stuff was downstairs and ready to go, the house-elves would have made sure of that, and she knew, too, that she had everything else she could possibly ever need in her handbag. But for some reason she wasn’t quite ready to leave the bedroom.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Ron married to Maia — she did. It was just strange to think that after today it wouldn’t be her, Ron and Harry anymore as it had always been for so many years, even after their break-up and divorce. She thought again about Rose and Hugo and how they had taken the news of their parents’ separation.

Once she and Ron had decided what they were going to do, they had sat their children down to explain the situation together. As they were both in love with other people there was no bitterness or anger about what was happening, so they were able to provide a united and fairly unemotional front which they hoped would be less worrying for Rose and Hugo.

As Hermione had anticipated, Hugo seemed to be relieved if anything at the news, as if worried that he had been the cause of Ron’s staying away from home. For a moment she had felt a touch of anger that Ron’s behaviour had caused her son to blame himself for the problems, but she let it slide. What was important now was making sure the kids knew they were still loved by both parents and that nothing would change as far as that was concerned.

Initially, Rose hadn’t been quite so open to the announcement, although as Hermione reflected, she was fourteen and was going through those hormonal changes lots of girls get at that age. Already moody and depressive, Rose had burst into tears which lasted for quite some time until Ron, for once in his life showing more than that teaspoon of emotion that Hermione had always accused him of having, had held her gently and talked to her softly, wiping away the tears as he explained how it wasn’t the end of the world. Hermione had sat with Hugo, making sure he, too, wasn’t about to go off the deep end.

Finally, when they all went out to dinner, with Harry, Ginny, and their kids, it appeared that everything was sorted, although Hermione hadn’t yet confided the news about the baby. Scorpius was at the meal, too, of course, as he and Albus were still almost inseparable, although Hermione was sure there was something fairly serious developing between him and Rose. Draco had already talked to him about the situation, too, and the boy had, so Draco said, taken it just as he had expected.

He and Rose had sat together, talking seriously throughout the entire meal, and once they went home Rose had come to find her mother, giving her a hug as she apologised for being so stupid earlier. Hermione held her daughter just as tightly and reassured her that she hadn’t been stupid for showing her emotions nor had she been wrong to be a little fearful of what would follow, as the unknown was always scary.

And then Rose had confirmed her and Scorpius’ relationship by questioning what it would mean for them when Hermione and Draco got married. Hermione had gently explained that just because their parents were getting married it didn’t mean they couldn’t still be a couple. Blushing, Rose had told her that they weren’t a couple, they were just friends, but Hermione could see the relief on her face at the news that she wasn’t about to lose her boyfriend.

Even the news of the baby, which Hermione had shared with her children over breakfast the following morning, hadn’t been quite as painful as she had expected. She had anticipated some anger or maybe even hatred, worried that they might think she was trying to replace them with a new baby in a new family. But Rose was extremely excited at the news and Hugo, whilst not ecstatic as his interest in babies was pretty thin, seemed happy enough at the idea of a new brother or sister.

After that it was fairly smooth sailing, although there had been a few tears when they sold the house and Hermione moved to Malfoy Manor. Ron and Maia sold Maia’s place, too, and bought a new home big enough to house the children if they wanted to stay there. There had been several moments of panic for Hermione when she realised that Rose and Hugo were getting on very well with Maia — maybe too well — and she worried that she was going to lose them to the beautiful woman. But that hadn’t happened either, and although they told her they were going to live at Ron’s house, at Christmas both Rose and Hugo happily came to stay at the manor with Scorpius and it wasn’t long before there was a house full of children, as Harry’s gang all came along, too. 

Uncontested, the divorces went through without any problems after the minimum time allowed. After the arrival of Clio in February, Maia confided to Hermione that she was already planning her wedding to Ron although she hadn’t yet told him about it in case he wasn’t ready to move on. Hermione thought she detected a touch of worry in Maia’s voice and wondered if Ron had unthinkingly done something to make her doubt his desire for her.

Joyous in her own relationship with Draco, which was even better than her wildest dreams had ever imagined, and delighted with the tiny baby daughter who had just added so much to her world, Hermione was quick to reassure Maia that Ron was just as smitten with her as she was with him and even offered to help with the wedding arrangements.

Hermione stood up and glanced one final time in the mirror. She supposed she didn’t look bad considering she was the mother of three children. A smile firmly on her face and handbag now draped over her arm, she headed downstairs to join the rest of her family. She paused on the stairs for a moment to look at them, all gathered in the hall and waiting for her and her heart swelled with joy. She really was a very lucky woman and her family were just wonderful, even Hugo.

Rose was holding Clio, whose dress was now white with dusky pink satin roses all over it; the satin ribbons threaded through it carried on the colour, which matched perfectly with the strapless, figure-fitting dress her beautiful older daughter was wearing. They both looked adorable and Hermione suddenly realised how grown up Rose was.

For a moment the sight of her and Scorpius, also looking rather older than she had noticed before, cooing over Clio was enough to make her heart stop. She would need to have a quiet word with her daughter in the near future to ensure no accidents happened. She was definitely not ready to become a grandmother just yet.

Hugo, who was looking just as grumpy as he had the previous two days since he had arrived at the manor, was scuffing his shoes against the bottom of the banister as he waited. Even he looked handsome in the suit he had been forced to wear, his waistcoat and tie matching the dusky pink shade that was the colour scheme for the wedding.

Hermione had been surprised when Maia told her that her colour scheme was going to be pink. Although she could see it suiting the dark girl very well, she was sure Ron’s red hair would clash violently, as would Rose’s and Hugo’s, Maia having already mentioned that she wanted them as bridesmaid and pageboy, along with Harry and Ginny’s daughter, Lily – another redhead. But she had chosen well and the colour complimented rather than clashed. Hermione found herself eager to see what Ron was going to look like.

She heard Draco chuckle as she joined him. He had seen the panicked look on her face when she looked at Rose and Scorpius with the baby and he knew what she was thinking.

‘I told my son a long time ago that I would kill him if he got Rose pregnant before they get married,’ he said quietly into her ear. ‘He knows better than to do anything without protection. And I’m sure she’s just as sensible.’

Hermione nodded but looked a little sad. ‘She’s grown up so quickly. I almost didn’t recognise her dressed like that. She looks so much like an adult.’

‘They are sixteen,’ Draco said reasonably. ‘Think about what we were like at that age. You fought my father and the Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic, so I think you were pretty grown up. She obviously takes after you.’

Hermione sighed. ‘I know, but I want her to still be my little girl, I think. It’s scary her growing up — and it makes me feel so old.’

‘You’ve got Clio to go through all that with again,’ Draco said soothingly. ‘And you’re not old. We’re the perfect age.’ He grinned at her. ‘We’d better go or we’re going to be late. And Hugo will have kicked a hole in his shoes.’

Hermione reached the bottom of the stairs and looked at her son.

‘You look great,’ she said.

‘I look like a prat, you mean,’ Hugo replied sourly. ‘Why did she make us wear pink?’

‘It looks good on you,’ Hermione said sincerely with a smile. ‘It goes well with your hair. Anyway, your dad will be dressed the same, so you won’t feel so out of place when you see him.’

Hugo scowled but didn’t say anything.

‘Look on the bright side: another couple of hours and it’ll all be over apart from the food and the dancing,’ Hermione said consolingly. Hugo looked about to say something when she added, ‘I know, Hugo, you don’t want to dance. But you don’t have to. You can sulk away in the corner trying to be cool if you want. But please don’t ruin your dad’s day. He’s very lucky to be marrying Maia and I’m sure you can manage a smile for a few minutes, during the wedding at least.’

Hugo stared at her for a moment then nodded. ‘Don’t you care?’ he asked quietly, a frown crossing his face. ‘Don’t you care that he’s marrying Maia?’

Hermione smiled. ‘Do you remember how crap it was when your dad and I were married? I think it’s better for all of us like this, isn’t it? I love Draco and your dad loves Maia. I’m happy that he’s got someone who loves him as much as she does and is as nice as she is.’

Hugo seemed to think about this for a moment. ‘Are you and Draco going to get married, too?’ he asked.

Hermione chuckled. ‘I think we will, but not just yet. I don’t think there’s any real rush; after all, he’s not going anywhere. And I’d like Clio to be a little older so I don’t look so haggard.’

Hugo gave a smirk. ‘She and Rosie can be bridesmaids, so you won’t need me.’ Then he added, ‘You don’t look haggard, Mum, just a bit tired. I don’t know why you don’t let the house-elves look after Clio. I’m sure they’d love to do it.’

‘I like looking after her,’ Hermione said a little defensively. ‘I looked after you and Rose, so why should Clio be any different?’ She grinned wickedly. ‘And don’t you worry about being left out of our wedding, son. I’ll find something extra special for you to wear — you and Scorpius both.’  

 ‘As long as you don’t make me wear pink,’ Hugo grumbled.

‘To be honest, I haven’t even thought about it yet,’ Hermione admitted. ‘But I promise it won’t be pink. Right, we’d better go, otherwise we’ll be late and Granny Weasley will be on the warpath. We don’t want that, do we?’

Hugo shook his head. He loved his grandmother, who was the kindest person he had ever met, but she was also incredibly fierce when annoyed, her red hair seeming to shoot sparks, and everyone ran for cover when that happened.

‘Everybody out!’ Draco announced at that moment, and leading the way he headed into the drawing room, carrying Clio’s bag. 

‘Do you want me to take Clio?’ Hermione asked Rose as her daughter and Scorpius began to follow Draco towards the door.

‘No, it’s fine,’ Rose said with a smile. ‘I’m perfectly happy to look after her. What do you think of her dress?’

‘I think you’ve done a really good job,’ Hermione admitted. ‘She looks lovely . . . and so do you. That colour really suits you, and the dress makes you look so grown up.’ She reached out to stroke Rose’s hair for a moment. ‘My beautiful daughter.’

Rose smiled again. ‘You look lovely, too, Mum. A real wow.’

‘Thank you,’ Hermione said sincerely, her heart fluttering from the compliment. ‘Now, let’s go.’

She followed her wonderful family through to the drawing room where they were going to Floo to the wedding venue.

****

****

* * *

 

 

‘Will you dance with me?’

Hermione looked up and smiled in surprise at Ron, who was standing with his hand outstretched. He looked so handsome and so assured, almost as if he were a completely different person to the friend she had known for so many years.

‘Of course I will,’ she replied happily. Taking his hand, she stood up and followed him onto the dance floor.

She was a little surprised that Ron was dancing with her, he had only done so a handful of times in all the years she had known him. It seemed that Maia brought out a side of him that Hermione had never quite managed to reach.

‘I need to thank you, ‘Mione,’ Ron said. His voice was soft and he looked at her tenderly, holding her tightly as they danced.

‘What for?’ Hermione asked.

‘For being the brave one and ending things between us,’ Ron said. ‘You know I would never have done it and eventually we’d have all been really unhappy, including the kids, and things would have been unbearable. You were right that our lives couldn’t stay as they were. I was so unfair to you, holding you back from having the happiness you deserve. I’m so sorry for the way I treated you.’

Hermione gently stroked Ron’s face. ‘It wasn’t entirely your fault,’ she admitted. ‘I should have tackled you earlier, should have said something when you first started coming home late. I could have made things better for myself . . . if I hadn’t been such a coward.’ She grinned at him. ‘Anyway, it all worked out for the best in the end.’

‘I’m so glad you’re here today,’ he whispered, leaning closer to bury his nose in Hermione’s hair.

‘Was there ever any doubt?’ Hermione asked him in surprise.

‘I guess I was a little worried that things might never be the same between us . . . that we wouldn’t be able to continue our friendship after what went before.’

‘That was never going to happen,’ Hermione said honestly. ‘Regardless of everything that’s happened, we’ve always been friends first and whatever else second. And there was no way on earth you’d be keeping me away from your wedding, Ronald.’ She pulled back and beamed at him. ‘It was beautiful, by the way.’

Ron’s face turned a little red at the compliment. ‘It’s been a really great day,’ he agreed. ‘Thank you for helping Maia to organise it.’

Hermione chuckled. ‘I’m not stupid. I know I’m going to need help when I organise ours, and I’m sure Maia will be happy to help me out.’

‘She really likes you, you know,’ Ron said, his voice soft and sounding fond.

‘And I like her, too,’ Hermione told him, ‘almost as much as I like you. I know you’re both going to be very happy.’

‘Are you?’ Ron asked quietly, a touch of concern in his voice.

Hermione smiled and admitted, ‘Completely. Draco is everything I ever wanted and more, and Clio makes everything that little bit more interesting.’

‘Maia keeps talking about having children,’ Ron confided apprehensively. ‘I’m not sure I could go through all that again.’

‘You should,’ Hermione said. ‘You’ve done it before so you know what you’re doing, and it would make Maia happy.’

‘Maybe. We’ll see how it goes. I might not have any choice,’ Ron conceded. ‘So when are you and Draco getting married?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘I don’t know yet. We haven’t really talked about it. I expect we’ll get round to it eventually, perhaps once Clio’s a little older. Anyway, Hugo’s desperate not to have to take part so hopefully he’ll have grown out of his “phase” by the time it happens.’

Ron chuckled, remembering his sullen-looking son who was currently hiding in a corner of the room and sulking, steadfastly pretending he wasn’t interested in taking part in the wedding reception.

‘You were right about Draco, you know,’ Ron admitted.

‘Right about what?’ Hermione asked curiously.

‘That he loves you. He really does. Actually, I think he was in love with you when we were at school, you know. I know that seems amazing, considering what he was and how he acted towards you . . . well, all of us, but I swear it’s true.’

‘I know,’ Hermione said. ‘He told me that afternoon at that Halloween party. I didn’t believe him, of course. I mean, it seemed too screwed up to be true. But once we’d been together for a while I knew he hadn’t lied to me.’

‘I’m surprised he hasn’t already organised the wedding,’ Ron said. ‘He seems really keen for it to happen.’

‘He’ll stop worrying now you’re married,’ Hermione predicted. ‘I think he was scared that I’d change my mind and go back to you, but that’s not going to happen now.’

‘It never was, was it?’ Ron asked.

‘No, but I guess he was a little insecure. Now that you’re married he doesn’t have competition anymore.’

The music had changed, the beat getting faster, and Hermione and Ron parted as Harry joined them, the two men taking Hermione’s hands so the three of them could dance together — good friends enjoying time together in a way that hadn’t happened between them for years. Hermione smiled as she looked from one friend to another. She, too, had been worried that things wouldn’t be the same between them, but the friendship the three of them shared was stronger than any single relationship. She knew that whatever happened in the future, she, Ron and Harry would go on just as they always had, protecting and supporting each other in any way necessary.

Her smile grew wider as she looked beyond their circle to where her son had just joined a group of giggling girls on the dance floor.

‘Is that young Hugo dancing?’ Harry asked. He sounded amused.

‘It certainly looks like it,’ Hermione said.

‘Funny what a bunch of girls will make you forget. Do you think we should remind him he should be sulking in the corner?’ Ron asked with a grin.

Hermione slapped his arm. ‘Leave him alone. I suspect the kids will rib him enough about it without us joining in. Anyway, it’s good to see him enjoying himself. Who are the girls?’

Ron shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, but I think the two blondes are something to do with Fleur’s family, and I know the brunette is Audrey’s niece. I’ve no idea who the other two are, though. You could really embarrass him and go and ask him to introduce them.’

‘I’m sure we’ll find out eventually, if they’re important enough,’ Hermione said. She dropped Ron and Harry’s hands. ‘I’m going to sit down. I’ll see you later.’ She kissed both men on the cheek and headed towards the table where Draco was sitting. Ron and Harry both left the dance floor, too, heading for the bar.

‘I told you Hugo would lighten up once the music started,’ Draco told her as she approached him.

He indicated the growing group of children out on the dance floor. Hugo was now showing off his dance moves, clearly enjoying the adoration he seemed to be receiving from the assorted girls in the group.

Draco stood up. ‘Would you like to go for a walk?’

‘A walk,’ Hermione repeated. ‘Why?’

‘Because it’s a beautiful evening out there and I would very much like to spend some time alone with you.’ Draco’s eyes were shining as he gazed at Hermione.  

‘That would be lovely, but where’s Clio?’ Hermione replied.

‘Rose has got her, of course,’ Draco said and pointed to where her daughter and her friends were playing with the baby, Clio’s giggling causing delight amongst the teenage girls. James, Albus and Scorpius were standing close by, looking a little bored, as it was clear the girls were more interested in Clio than in them.

She took Draco’s hand and the two of them made their way towards the door, talking briefly to a few people en route. Then they were outside, making their way across the immaculate lawns as the sun began to sink beneath the trees. After a few minutes of walking they reached a seating area with a large fountain in the centre and benches around the outside. Draco pulled Hermione down onto one of the benches.

‘Do you remember the first time we went for a walk together?’ he asked her as he stroked her hand.

‘The Halloween party at Hogwarts,’ Hermione nodded her head.

‘I couldn’t believe my luck when you let me go with you,’ Draco told her. ‘And you have no idea how excited I was when I kissed you.’

‘I felt really guilty about that,’ Hermione admitted. ‘I loved Ron, but I really enjoyed that kiss.’

‘I told you I could make you happy,’ Draco said. ‘And I have, haven’t I?’

Hermione smiled. ‘Very. I love you, Draco. You do know that, don’t you?’

Draco chuckled. ‘It never hurts to be reminded.’ He moved closer to Hermione, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her to him, kissing her tenderly. ‘Ron and Maia make a good couple — almost as good as you and me,’ he said once the kiss was over.

‘They do,’ Hermione agreed. ‘I think they’re going to be happy, too.’

‘I want you to marry me, Hermione,’ Draco said seriously. He hadn’t let go of her and was looking at her intently, his pale eyes boring into her darker ones.

‘You already asked me,’ Hermione reminded him. ‘And I said yes.’

‘I mean really get married,’ Draco said quietly. ‘Set a date, organise the wedding.’

‘I thought we were going to leave it for a while, wait until Clio was a bit older,’ Hermione said.

‘I know we said that,’ Draco replied, ‘but I don’t want to wait. I love you and want you to be my wife now . . . I want to know that you’re mine forever.’  Hermione smiled. ‘Say yes,’ he whispered. ‘Please, Hermione . . . say yes.’

‘Yes,’ Hermione said. ‘Oh, yes, Draco. Definitely yes.’

Draco pulled Hermione into another kiss that lasted considerably longer.

‘I’m going to make you the happiest woman in the world,’ he promised.

‘You already have,’ Hermione told him, and kissed him once more.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione paced the room anxiously. She hated not being in charge and it was making her fretful. She knew she was _supposed_ to be having a long, luxurious, and relaxing bath before getting ready for the ceremony, but instead she was stalking the room, unable to do anything but worry about what was going on downstairs. The stupid thing was that it wasn’t even as if she didn’t trust the people organising the wedding.

Logically she knew Draco, Maia, Rose, Ginny and Mrs Weasley and everyone else roped into helping were more than capable of ensuring everything ran smoothly, even with Harry and Ron helping — although god only knew what those two were bringing to the celebration. But she couldn’t stop the panic that came from having no idea what she was going to find when she finally went downstairs . . . and having no control over what was happening.

Knowing Hermione could be a bit of a control freak, and aware that this would cause headaches and stress for everyone — not least him and his beautiful fiancée — Draco had refused to allow her to have anything to do with organising the wedding except for choosing her dress. Everything else had been completely co-ordinated by Draco’s band of helpers, with him overseeing the project.

He had even gone so far as to move Hermione into a different bedroom, one not overlooking the garden where the wedding was to take place, and had steadfastly refused to divulge _any_ details of what was planned, nor had anyone else given her a hint. It seemed to Hermione that everyone she knew had been sworn to secrecy by Draco, and she found it incredibly frustrating.

She had tried in vain to learn what the colour scheme was going to be so she could get the right dress, as she had no intention of dressing in the traditional white, cream, or ivory, feeling that as a mother of three it seemed a bit silly and anyway she was too old for those colours. But even that was forbidden to her, the only concession being a delegation of women who knew of the wedding plans accompanying her to Madam Malkin’s shop, which had apparently already been provided with all the required details on colours and such-like.

She had spent almost two hours at the shop trying on dress after dress which had been considered and critiqued by those who accompanied her, until finally the “perfect” dress had been found. Hermione had gone back to Malfoy Manor knowing the dress would look beautiful, but still no nearer to knowing what the colour would be, although she knew it wasn’t going to be the white one she had tried on. Nor did she know what accessories she would be wearing with it, as none had been provided or tried on during the shopping session.

Madam Malkin and her assistant were due to arrive at eleven o’clock, which was when she would finally discover what Draco had planned. As the time ticked closer, the more anxious she got.

There was a knock on the door and Hermione jumped. Chiding herself for being so nervy, she walked rapidly to the door and opened it. Standing outside was Rose, wearing her dressing gown and carrying a tray containing breakfast. Hermione realised that she was a little disappointed. She had been hoping her daughter would have already been dressed in her bridesmaid outfit, as that would tell her what the colour scheme was. She just hoped it wasn’t, as she half-suspected, going to be the green, silver and black of Slytherin.

‘Draco asked me to bring you this. He thought you’d probably need something to settle your nerves. There’s a glass of Bucks Fizz as well as tea, and a soft-boiled egg and marmite toasty soldiers.’ Rose stopped and looked at her mother. ‘I thought you were supposed to be relaxing in the bath. Madam Malkin is due soon, isn’t she?’

Hermione took the tray from Rose and went to sit on the bed. She hadn’t felt hungry all morning, the tension knotting in her stomach making her feel sick rather than anything else, but seeing and smelling the marmite toast made her stomach rumble. The Bucks Fizz was a nice touch, too. Rose closed the door and came to join her mother on the bed.

‘I can’t relax until I know what the colour scheme is,’ Hermione admitted as she dipped one of the soldiers into the runny bright yellow yolk of the egg. ‘It’s driving me mad not knowing.’

Rose gave her an infuriating smile. ‘You don’t need to worry, Mum. Draco’s done a really good job. It looks brilliant down there.’ She looked at Hermione for a moment as she continued to eat. ‘Even Hugo’s happy, and you know what a pain-in-the-arse he is these days.’

Hermione gave Rose a reproachful look, knowing that she should berate her daughter for her comment about Hugo but understanding it entirely.

‘Surely you could tell me now, couldn’t you?’ she wheedled. ‘I mean, it’s too late for me to change it if it’s wrong.’

Rose gave her that smile again. ‘I’m not telling you — it’s a surprise. You’ll have to wait until Madam Malkin arrives. But you’re going to love it, Mum. I promise. You won’t want to change a thing. You’d better hurry up and eat, though, or you’re not going to have time for a bath before she arrives.’

Hermione spooned the last of the egg from the shell and then put the tray aside and picked up the teacup. She took a large mouthful of tea.  

‘What’s the time, anyway?’ She looked around at the clock on the bedside table and realised it was quarter to eleven. ‘I suppose I should go and have a bath,’ she conceded. ‘I don’t suppose Madam Malkin would be very impressed with me if I were all smelly and unwashed when she turned up.’

Rose wrinkled her nose but then laughed. ‘You don’t smell, actually. But I think it’s best for everyone if you do have a bath.’ She stood up and moved out of Hermione’s reach as her mother tried to slap her. ‘I’m off to get ready, too. I’ll see you downstairs. Unless you want me to come back when you’ve got dressed?’

Hermione got up, too. She nodded. ‘I want to see what you look like before you go downstairs — and you can check to make sure I look all right, too. The last thing I need is for the dress to be wrong.’

Rose moved to give Hermione a hug. ‘You’re worrying over nothing,’ she said soothingly. ‘The dress looks fantastic on you regardless of colour and you’re going to love it. Go and have a bath and I’ll see you once I’m dressed. I’ll bring you another glass of Bucks Fizz if you want.’

‘That would be nice,’ Hermione said with a smile, releasing her daughter, ‘although maybe just the champagne this time.’

As Rose left the room, Hermione made her way into the bathroom. She wasn’t going to have time for the relaxing bath, she had left it far too late for that. Instead, she set to work brushing her teeth, taking her time as she always did. This was relaxing enough for her.

Hermione peered at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look too shabby, considering her age. She sighed as she looked at her hair. She had no idea what to do with it. Until Madam Malkin turned up she wouldn’t know whether she was wearing a veil or whether her hair needed to be braided. She couldn’t even do her makeup until she knew what colour she was wearing.

She turned on the shower and stepped into it, soaping herself down with her favourite scented shower gel before washing and conditioning her hair. Five minutes later she was back in the bedroom, wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, her hair wrapped up in a towel, hopefully keeping it from doing anything too dreadful.

Nervous butterflies replaced the rock of tension in her stomach as there was a knock on the door. For a moment Hermione felt faint, but she walked to the door and opened it, smiling widely at Madam Malkin, who was dressed in a bright purple robe, and the two young assistants, both dressed in black, that she had brought with her. Hermione moved back to allow them into the room, watching with fascination as dress bags and boxes were carried over the threshold.

‘Good morning, my dear,’ Madam Malkin said brightly, a genuine and open smile on her face. ‘I bet you’re excited to see your dress, aren’t you?’

Hermione suddenly found that for some strange reason she didn’t seem to be able to talk, so she nodded vigorously to show her interest.

‘It really is beautiful,’ Madam Malkin gushed as she bustled around laying out the bags and boxes, the assistants carefully making sure they stayed out of her way. Hermione watched her. ‘Mr Malfoy has a very fine eye for detail and colour. It’s just divine . . . and of course the style you chose is simply exquisite.’ Once she finished, Madam Malkin turned to Hermione once more and passed her a box. ‘So, first things first, my dear: here’s your underwear. I understand from Mr Malfoy that this is somewhat significant. We’ll just wait out here while you go and pop it on.’

Hermione carried the box into the bathroom and looked at it closely. It very much resembled the box the underwear had come in that Draco had bought her before their relationship had started. Untying the black velvet bow she pulled off the lid and peeled back the layers of white tissue paper, eager to see what lay within. Surely this would give her a clue as to the colour scheme of the wedding.

But a moment later her heart had sunk a little as the green, black, and silver underwear was revealed. Draco _had_ chosen Slytherin colours after all. She pulled the garments from the box and examined them. Although the bra and knickers were similar to the ones Draco had bought her before, the quality of these items was far better and Hermione knew instinctively that they had cost a lot more.

In addition, there was a suspender belt and the sheerest, softest flesh-coloured stockings Hermione had ever seen, along with a garter belt, which she just knew he had included to give him a thrill. Rapidly, she changed into the underwear, her heart beating faster now as she waited to see what her dress looked like. She just hoped it wasn’t too dark or it would make her skin look sallow.

Returning to the bedroom, Hermione was greeted by the ever-effusive Madam Malkin, who cooed over the exquisite underwear.

‘Now, how do you want to play this?’ the woman asked, pointing to the dress bag which covered the whole length of the bed. ‘Do you want me to show you the dress before you put it on, or do you want to close your eyes and wait until you’re wearing it, to see the full effect? The choice is yours, my dear.’

Hermione debated for a moment. Part of her really wanted to see the dress to see just how bad it was, but part of her wanted to wait and be surprised. Perhaps it would look better on.

‘I’ll wait until it’s on,’ she told the expectant Madam Malkin.

‘That’s the spirit, dear,’ she said. ‘Now just close your eyes and let us guide you.’ She clapped her hands with delight and began issuing orders to her assistants.

Hermione closed her eyes and waited, hearing the rustle as the dress was pulled from the bag. Then Madam Malkin began to give her instructions. Hermione put her arms over her head and stood exactly as she had been told, enjoying the feeling of the cool, silky material as it slid over her body. She dropped her arms as someone, she assumed one of the assistants, began to lace up the dress, pulling the ties tight at her back. A couple of times she had the urge to peek, but having decided to wait she forced herself to keep her eyes closed.

There was a knock on the door and the other assistant was despatched to open it. Hermione recognised the visitor as her daughter by the sound of her voice. Her eyes almost opened then so she could see what colour dress she was wearing, but still she somehow managed to keep them shut.

‘I’ve brought you some champagne,’ Rose told her as she joined her. ‘I’ll put it on the bedside table for when you’ve finished getting dressed.’ She moved away, then a moment later added, ‘That looks really stunning, Mum.’

Just when Hermione began to think they would never finish lacing her in, Madam Malkin took hold of her arm and led her across the room to where she knew the mirror stood. A moment later she felt the towel being removed from her head.      

‘You can open your eyes now, dear,’ Madam Malkin said.

Hermione opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the mirror covered with a dark cloth. Automatically her eyes lowered to look at the dress, but as she did so one of the assistants whipped the material from the mirror and she caught sight of her reflection in the glass and froze, absolutely entranced by what she saw.

The dress, which had several well-cut swags designed to hide those areas she had never felt comfortable with, fitted like a glove and gave her, she had to admit with some admiration, an amazing figure. The material of the dress was soft and silky and coloured not as she had expected in Slytherin colours, but in a soft and incredibly flattering shade of gold, and on top of the satin was a gauzy material in a similar shade that made the dress shimmer.

With an appreciative gasp Hermione moved closer to the mirror to get a better look at herself. The dress was perfect, and such a beautiful colour. Suddenly her mind was whirling with possible colour schemes. She turned to look at the back of the gown in the mirror and then she knew what colour scheme Draco had chosen. Her eyes filled with tears at what he had done for her. A panel in the back of her skirt, underneath the gauzy shimmering fabric, was a deep claret red — the colours of Gryffindor.

‘You look beautiful, Mum,’ Rose said sincerely, coming to stand at her mother’s side.

Hermione looked at her daughter in the mirror, too. She was wearing a satin halter-necked dress in the same shade as the panel in Hermione’s gown. The skirt flared slightly, pulled out by petticoats.

‘Didn’t Draco do a fantastic job?’ Rose said enthusiastically. ‘You should see it down there, Mum. It looks lovely. He’s worked really hard to get it just right.’

Hermione nodded, still unable to speak for the moment. She wiped her eyes, brushing away the tears.

‘This is for you,’ Rose said, handing her mother a package. ‘Draco asked me to give it to you. It goes with this.’ She waved a black box she was still holding.

Hermione grinned stupidly as she looked at the beautifully wrapped box. The paper was heavy and gold, similar to her dress, and there was a gold and green lamé ribbon tied around it with a string of green crystals threaded through it. She moved towards the bed and sat down. Slowly she opened the wrapping paper, her hands shaking. After staring at the box for a few seconds, she opened the lid. Nestled inside on a bed of black velvet were a bracelet and earrings that perfectly matched the ruby necklace Draco had bought her for Christmas.

This time Hermione couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, she was so overwhelmed both by Draco’s generosity and his thoughtfulness. Even the underwear made sense now. It was a nod to their early days, to the first day they had spent together, and it was completely perfect.

‘Are you okay, Mum?’ Rose asked worriedly. She joined her mother on the bed where she still held the box containing the necklace. Rose pulled a tissue from a box on the bedside table and handed it to Hermione.

Hermione dabbed at her eyes. ‘I’m fine, love,’ she said with a smile. ‘Just a little overwhelmed by what Draco’s done.’

‘He really loves you,’ Rose said. ‘I mean, we all knew he did, but what he’s done for the wedding is just astounding.’ She picked up the glass of champagne and passed it to Hermione. ‘Perhaps you need some of this to calm you down.’

Hermione took the glass and had a sip.

‘So what am I supposed to do with my hair?’ she asked Madam Malkin. ‘Have I got a veil or should I be doing something with it?’

Madam Malkin smiled and gestured to one of her assistants. The girl rushed to her side and handed her a box. Madam Malkin lifted the lid and showed the contents to Hermione.

‘You have two choices. There is this tiara—’ she lifted an exquisite ruby tiara from the box —   ‘or you can style your hair and thread strings of rubies through it, if you prefer.’

Hermione took the tiara and looked at it closely, thinking about how she would style her hair if she wore it. She stood up again and placed it on her head, looking at herself critically in the mirror. It was beautiful, but she wasn’t sure it was what she wanted. She pulled it from her head and handed it back to Madam Malkin.

‘I think I’ll go with the crystals,’ she said.

Madam Malkin smiled approvingly and handed her the box. ‘We’ll just get the rest of your things ready while you do your hair and makeup,’ she said.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thirty minutes later Hermione left the bedroom, accompanied by Rose. Her hair had been styled into an elegant chignon, strands of rubies threaded through it. On her feet were sandals of the same claret red and she was now wearing the jewellery, which she was delighted to find complemented the dress perfectly.

‘I’ll go first and let everyone know you’re coming,’ Rose told her. ‘You need to make a grand entrance.’

Hermione kissed her daughter on the cheek and then released her and stood waiting on the landing for the signal to move. She could hear the sound of a lot of people downstairs and for a moment her heart fluttered at the idea of being the centre of attention, even if she did know them all.

A moment later Rose’s head appeared around the corner. ‘Okay, you can come down now, Mum.’ She grinned and disappeared again.

Hermione took a deep breath and moved to the top of the stairs, looking down in astonishment at the crowd below her. The stairs and the whole of the entrance hall was festooned with garlands of gold with large claret tea roses worked into the swags. The doors to the drawing room were open, showing that that room, too, had been decorated in a similar style with the addition of huge vases of Gryffindor-inspired roses on either side of the French windows that opened out onto the lawn.

She walked down the stairs, trying not to feel self-conscious as the assembled guests looked up at her. She looked around and spotted Rose standing with Scorpius and Hugo, both of whom were looking very handsome dressed in dark claret suits of a similar shade to Rose’s dress with brocade waistcoats of gold poking from beneath the open jackets. Rose was holding on to Clio, who was dressed in a gown the same colour as Hermione’s, the shimmery material once again making an appearance.

Hermione smiled at the guests as she made her way through the drawing room and looked out through the French windows and into the garden. The Gryffindor theme was out there, too. The chairs had been laid out on the lawn and were gold-framed with cushions and seat backs of claret velvet, with still more displays of roses in impressive gold urns.

In front of the chairs was a gold lattice-work structure covered with more of the large claret and gold roses, and in front of that was a large marquee containing, Hermione was sure, even more Gryffindor-inspired decor. Hermione could see Draco standing there already, tall and handsome in a suit the same colour as those worn by the boys. His best friend, Blaise Zabini, stood next to him dressed in a similar style.

Hermione looked around with pleasure, watching as the guests filed into the garden and began to take their seats. And then coming towards her was her father, also in the claret and gold combination, and she could feel tears in her eyes once more. She felt someone touch her hand and realised it was Rose. She was holding Hermione’s bouquet and a tissue. Hermione took both of them from her with a smile.

‘Thanks, love,’ she whispered as she dabbed at her eyes with the tissue, trying not to dislodge her makeup, then looked once again at the garden where the seats were now full. This was it — the wedding was about to start.

‘You look really great, Mum,’ Hugo announced with a smile. He and Scorpius had just joined the wedding party. Scorpius nodded his agreement before moving to stand with Rose, holding her hand as they waited.

‘We’re going first,’ Hugo told her, indicating Scorpius, ‘then Rose will follow and then you and Granddad will come last. We were going to include Clio, but she’s been a bit whiney this morning, so Granny Weasley’s holding her.’

Scorpius smiled at Hermione. ‘My father is so excited about this. I’ve never seen him so animated about anything.’

‘I’m excited, too . . . and a bit nervous,’ Hermione admitted.

‘It’s going to be great,’ Rose told her.

Hermione felt her father’s hand in hers, squeezing gently, giving her reassurance. She took a deep breath.

‘Okay, let’s get this show on the road,’ she said, eager now for the wedding to begin.

Scorpius released Rose’s hand and made his way outside, Hugo following behind.  A moment later Hermione heard the music start up. Rose went into the garden, following the boys. Hermione looked at her father and gave a small, nervous smile.

‘You look beautiful, pickle,’ her father said, returning the smile before leaning forward to kiss her gently on the forehead. He squeezed her hand again. ‘Draco’s a lucky man . . . but I think he’s well aware of that. Are you ready?’

Hermione nodded and the two of them exited the house through the French windows, following her children down the aisle between the chairs. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, but for Hermione the guests were nothing but a sea of faces. The only person she could focus on now was Draco; the man who had given her life meaning again . . . had given her everything he had promised and more.

Scorpius and Hugo had reached the front now and they split to stand one each side of the trellis, like an honour guard. Rose, following after, stood next to Scorpius, watching as Hermione and her father walked slowly down the aisle.  When Hermione drew level with the first row of chairs, Rose stepped forward to take her bouquet from her and then moved back, allowing her mother to continue to Draco’s side.

Hermione could feel herself blushing at the intensity of Draco’s gaze, and as her father put her hand in Draco’s and she looked into his eyes in return, seeing there the desire and love he had for her, she knew everything in her life was finally completely perfect.

‘Beautiful!’ Draco announced with a smile, his voice soft and melodic. Hermione gazed back at him, adoration shining in her eyes. ‘And the necklace isn’t bad, either.’

The tension broken, Hermione couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips as she squeezed Draco’s hand. Then, as one, they turned to face the old wizard in the long blue robes who was waiting to conduct the service.


End file.
